


No Spell for Absolution (or formulae for forgiveness)

by Shaddyr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Multi, Plot Twists, Self-Discovery, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 51,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaddyr/pseuds/Shaddyr
Summary: At just the right place and time, one person's actions can change everything.Back at Hogwarts for 8th year after the war, Draco finds himself overwhelmed. The emotional toll of his sentence, modelled after muggle-style restorative justice, is far greater than he expected. In a desperate effort to find some way to set the atrocities of the war to rights, he unexpectedly ends up in the lost city of Atlantis, unimaginably far from home.Harry, Ron and Hermione set out to discover where Draco vanished to, only to find themselves pulled into Atlantis as well. Once there, they discover how differently things could have turned out. Their arrival sets in motion a series of events, forcing Draco and Harry into a reckoning neither of them could ever have expected.





	1. Universal Wavefunction

**Author's Note:**

> Many months ago, I wondered what might have happened if Lily and James had survived. This led to the further question of what if the SGC also existed in the same universe. Part of the answer was that, in such a universe, the Room of Hidden Things would be home to more than one kind of mirror.
> 
> Switches between the HP and SGA universe are indicated by the dividers *~*hp*~* or ~*sga*~*. Barring real life complications, this story will be updated with at least one chapter per week until complete.

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*

For just a moment, Hagrid stood motionless in the cool night air. The waxing crescent moon cast the barest illumination on the ruined cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

"Mama, mama, mama!" The weak cries spurred Hagrid into the house and up the stairs. He stopped at the door to the destroyed bedroom, frozen in his tracks by the sight of Harry pressed up against the side of his crib, little hands reaching out through the bars toward his mother's body on the floor.

With a gentleness that belied his great size, Hagrid wrapped Harry in a soft blanket and then cradled the sobbing child to his chest. His heart was heavy with grief as he walked past the bodies of Lily and James Potter, but there was nothing he could do to help them now. All that mattered was getting Harry to safety.

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

For just a moment, Hagrid stood motionless in the cool night air. The waxing crescent moon cast the barest illumination on the ruined cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

"Harry! Wake up! HARRY!" The anguished screams spurred Hagrid into the house and up the stairs. He stopped at the door to the destroyed bedroom, frozen in his tracks by the sight of Harry wrapped in his mother's arms.

"Merlin's beard!" Hagrid exclaimed, and suddenly found himself at wandpoint as Lily pointed her wand straight at him, rage burning in her eyes.

"Lily, It's me. Hagrid," he said, raising his hands.

"Hagrid," she whispered, dropping her wand to wrap both arms around her son once more. "Harry... oh Godric, I think he's dead!" she cried, her whole body shaking with grief. Hagrid felt his heart constrict painfully as the little boy flopped limply in her arms, blood matted in his hair and all over his face.

There was a groan from the floor and Hagrid looked over to see Sirius forcing himself to his knees and shuffling across the floor toward Lily.

"St... Mungo's," Sirius rasped out, reaching out to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Hagrid," he said, catching the other man's eyes. "James... downstairs. Don't know if he's alive... find him. We'll send help." With that, they disapparated.

Hagrid ran down the stairs and picked his way through the maelstrom that remained of the living room. After a moment, he spotted James on the floor under a toppled bookshelf. He lifted it with ease and shoved it out of the way, then knelt beside him and placed a finger gently on his throat. There was a weak pulse.

"Yer a tough 'un, James Potter," Hagrid said with a sigh of relief. "Let's hope wee Harry is, too."  
  
  
  
Healer Fehr's voice was gentle, but his words were like acid to her soul. As Lily gazed down at her sleeping son, she wondered how fate could be so cruel.

"We've been able to prevent any further deterioration, but the damage was too extensive," he said, shaking his head. "I'm afraid that your son will never be able to use magic."

"He'll be a squib." She was amazed at how even her voice was.

Fehr hesitated. "Not… exactly, but for all intents and purposes, that will be the end result. While it is possible he might manifest some accidental magic at times of extreme stress, I really rather doubt it." The healer’s face was a study of regret. "He _has_ magic, his core is intact, but the pathways…" He shook his head. "It's like they've been overloaded and burnt out. He'll never be able to access it. I'm sorry."

She looked up at him. "And my husband? Has there been any change?"

"Yes." Fehr was glad to move on to a happier prognosis. "He'll remain in the Spell damage ward for at least several weeks, but they were able to reverse the necrotizing and dissolution curses. The skele-grow is taking care of the bone damage, and I'm certain he'll make a full recovery within a few months."

"And what of Sirius?" The healer frowned, and she continued, undaunted. "I understand we are not family by blood, but he is one of our oldest and dearest friends. He saved our lives tonight, all of us. Please tell me if he is alright."

Fehr stared at her a few moments before letting out a huff a frustration. "If anyone asks, I will deny telling you this," he muttered. "Mr. Black barely allowed us to repair the worst of the spell damage before leaving St. Mungo's under our strongest protest." Fehr sighed and shook his head. "He was quite adamant that he had something very important to do and it could not wait."

"Peter," she murmured. 

Fehr gave her a questioning look, but Lily simply thanked him. She turned her attention back to Harry as the healer quietly slipped out of the room, her mind awhirl. Lily didn't know what her next steps would be, but she was determined to keep her family safe at any cost.

Caught up in thought, she lost track of time until she heard a quiet tap at the door. She looked over to see Dumbledore standing there.

"My dear girl, I came as soon as I was able. May I come in?"

She nodded mutely and he walked in to join her beside Harry’s crib. "Are you alright?"

"I almost lost him," she whispered. "I almost lost them both." She looked up at Dumbledore. "I believe in the Order, and all it stands for. I believe in the fight, but I have to keep my family safe." Lily shook her head. "If they're not safe, I don't have anything to fight for."

"There is nothing more important than protecting the people you love," he said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder gently. "Lily, can you tell me what happened?

She turned back to Harry and began to speak. "Sirius showed up at the door tonight, raving about Peter and how we had to get out." She gently brushed the hair from Harry's forehead, exposing the jagged cut there. "We thought we were being so clever. We made Peter our secret keeper, because no one would expect it. But Sirius discovered Peter had betrayed us to Voldemort." She gave a bitter laugh. "James and Sirius wanted to take me and Harry somewhere safe and go after Peter when Voldemort showed up. I ran upstairs with Harry while the two of them fought him, but it was only moments before he was there, ordering me to stand aside and let him kill Harry."

Her breathing grew ragged, and her fingers curled around the crib railing. "I'd dropped my wand in my rush to get Harry away, so I couldn't even fight. I was begging Voldemort to spare him when Sirius appeared in the doorway. Voldemort hit Sirius with a diffindo just as he threw me my wand, and then it all went a bit mad with curses and hexes flying. Before he could finish casting an Avada, Sirius hit him with something that twisted him all up. I could feel the malevolence hanging in the air, but he couldn't finish the curse."

"Distorqueo peharps," Dumbledore mused with a nod. "That might have done it."

"I don't know," she said with a terse shake of her head. "We both started throwing everything we could at him, but then he cast something different - it felt terrible, dark and cold, in a way I've never felt before and suddenly everything around us was burning or exploding and Harry was screaming and then there was a flash of light and Voldemort was gone. And Harry wasn't screaming anymore, or breathing, and his heart wasn't beating and – Albus! I can't do this anymore!" Lily looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "The healers say Harry is going to be a _squib_ and that there's nothing they can do for him!" She turned away as a sob escaped her, struggling for control. Dumbledore stood silently, waiting till she was ready to continue. 

"A ministry official showed up earlier to assure me that Voldemort was destroyed. Everyone is out celebrating our 'victory', but I don't believe it for a moment. You know as well as I do that he’s still out there. He was pure evil, and he'll be back. If we stay, he’s going to come after Harry again one day, and my son will have no way to defend himself." She drew herself up tall, staring into his eyes with an expression that brooked no argument. "I’ve got to get him away from here, Albus. We need a fresh start in the muggle world, somewhere Harry will have a chance at a normal, happy life. Somewhere Voldemort and his Death Eaters can never find us."

"Sadly, I agree." Dumbledore's face was grave as he nodded. "I also believe Voldemort is still out there. He is damaged, there is no doubt. You and Sirius likely did him grave injury, but he is far too powerful to have been destroyed by the exchange you've described, despite what the Ministry may wish to believe." He gazed at Harry while stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I wish it were otherwise, but I fear that, one day, Voldemort will regroup and be back. When that happens, there may no longer be a choice and a reckoning will be required." He glanced over at Lily. "But that is not today." 

Dumbledore looked back at Harry, his expression thoughtful. "You know, I was recently talking with a colleague from America," he said, tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Apparently, there is a very helpful organization in New York that specializes in assisting wizarding families with squib children. They help place magical family members into wizarding jobs that can easily blend into the muggle world. It allows these families to integrate into mixed wizarding-muggle communities all over the country without the fear of breaking any secrecy statutes." He smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye. "I understand they even have positions for Aurors who work with muggle law enforcement. Isn’t that delightfully progress of them?"

For the first time since they’d been forced into hiding, Lily felt a ray of hope. She reached out and took his hand, gripping it tightly.

"Thank you."


	2. Quantum Superposition

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*

_First Year_

Harry sat with his new friend Ron, surrounded by a mountain of candy wrappers and happier than he had ever been. Ron was just about to demonstrate a spell to turn his rat yellow when a bushy haired girl appeared at the door of their train compartment.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

_6th Grade_

The fateful June day that his family moved to Colorado Springs, Harry thought his life was over. He moped about in his room, putting up his Star Trek posters and playing the brand new Sega Game Gear his parents had bought him to soften the blow of leaving all his childhood friends in Vermont behind. As far as he was concerned, it was the only good thing that came out of the move, and he was firmly resolved to lie on his bed playing it for the rest of the summer.

One morning, after about a week of that, his mother had had enough.

_"Harry James Potter!" He blinked and glanced over to the door of his room where his mother stood glaring at him, hands on her hips, green eyes flashing. He knew that look, and it did not bode well for his plan. She reached out one hand, palm up, and arched an eyebrow at him._

_"But mooooom!" He flopped back on the bed and sighed dramatically. "I have nothing to do!"_

_She walked up to the bed and snagged the Game Gear out of his hand. "Oh, is that so?" she asked, with a little smirk. "Well, there are still stacks of boxes that need to be unpacked in the garage-"_

_He grabbed a pillow, covered his face with it and groaned. A moment later, his mom tugged it out of his hands and then sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. She gave him an indulgent smile and reached out to gently push a tendril of hair back from his eyes._

_"I know you miss your friends, darling, but I promise you will make new ones here." She tilted her head to one side. "But you certainly can't do that if you lounge about in your room all summer, so up you get."_

_She stood and left the room, clearly motioning for him to come along. Grumbling, he got to his feet and followed her to the kitchen. On the table he saw a brown paper lunch bag._

_"Take that," she instructed, "and walk to the park. We drove by it yesterday on the way home from the store. It's only three blocks away." She gave him a hug and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. "I don't want to see you again till tea time."_

So, Harry went to the park. He climbed up on the monkey bars and sulked for a while, but the sun was hot. Eventually, he climbed back down to sit in the shade under a tree and eat his lunch. It was there he met Rob, who liked Star Trek too, but also loved Star Wars and wanted to play light sabers with him. Rob introduced Harry to his best friend Gracie, who had a skateboard and invited them over to play Commander Keen at her house. When Harry finally got home, it was after dark and his mom and dad both yelled at him for worrying them. After he was done being grounded the next day, it ended up being the best summer of his life.

"Harry, wait up!" Rob yelled, peddling for all he was worth. Harry raced down the street ahead of him, taking full advantage of the fact that his brand new Merlin 10 speed bike was giving him the advantage.

"Last one to Gracie's house is a rotten egg!" he yelled over his shoulder, laughing as Rob fell behind.

Harry was a little nervous about going to a new school, but at least he had his new best friends Gracie and Rob to go with so he wouldn't have to face it alone.

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*

_Third Year_

Harry trudged up the hill, still trying to shake off the remnants of his nightmare. He was feeling a little groggy from the lack of sleep. 

"We don't want to be late!" Arthur Weasley called out, motioning for everyone to hurry up to the top of the hill. "Get yourselves into a good position!" 

Harry stopped and watched as the others surrounded the dirty object at that sat on the ground. "Why are they all standing around that manky old boot?"

George and Fred brushed by him, grinning. "That isn't just any manky old boot, mate. That's a portkey!"

Harry was mystified. "What's a portkey?"

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

_8th Grade_

Harry snuggled up under the blanket on the sofa and yawned. He was comfortably wedged between Rob, who was hogging the popcorn, and Gracie, who was half asleep, her head resting on Harry's shoulder. The glow from the TV was the only light in the room, and the classic science fiction movie playing was one of Harry's favourites.

" _Open the pod bay doors, Hal._ "

"I'm sorry Dave." Harry quoted the dialogue along with the movie, pitching his voice to imitate the same eerie calm as the ship's computer. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Stop it, Harry!" Gracie complained, poking him in the ribs. Harry yelped and tried to squirm away, but there was nowhere to go. "You're going to give me nightmares."

He just snickered at her and continued with the next line when Hal spoke again. " _I think you know the problem just as well as I do,_ " he intoned into Gracie ear for extra effect.

"That's it," Rob declared, dumping popcorn on Harry's head. "I'm calling you Hal from now on."

As he picked the popcorn out of his hair, Harry thought he'd take nightmares about murderous computers and alien monoliths over the ones about a terrifying man with a snake that ate people any day of the week.

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*

_Fifth Year_

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Harry jerked awake, gasping. "Ron! Your dad! He's been bitten, it's serious, there was blood everywhere…"

Ron shook his head. "Harry, mate!" He used a soothing tone of voice, trying to calm Harry down. "You were just dreaming—"

"No!" Harry insisted, grasping Ron's arms, willing him to believe. "It wasn't a dream! At least, not an ordinary dream. I was there, I saw it… I did it…"

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

_Sophomore Year_

"Where's Harry?" James asked as he hung his coat up on the hook behind the door.

Lily opened the oven to take out the plate she'd kept under a warming charm for James. "Fell asleep in front of the telly," she said as she placed the plate on the table. "Cottage pie tonight. Harry came in after practise, ate two helpings and passed out on the sofa about thirty seconds after he sat down."

"Mm, warm cottage pie and a beautiful woman serving me after the day I've had!" James wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in close. "Run away with me," he murmured, lips against her ear as he inhaled her warm scent.

Lily let out an affronted gasp. "Sir!" she said, twining her arms around his neck. "I'll have you know that I'm a happily married woman!" 

"More the fool is he to—"

A scream rent the air and they both froze. It was followed by another, longer and more anguished than before. James bolted for the front room with Lily hot on his heels.

Harry lay writhing on the sofa, head tossing back and forth with sweat pouring off him. His face was pulled back in a grimace and he screamed again, sounding terrified beyond reason. 

"Harry!" James shook his son's shoulder trying to rouse him. "Harry, wake up!"

Harry jerked awake, gasping, blinking up at his parents. "Mom! Dad! Oh god! There was blood everywhere, I... it… just kept biting and biting—" 

Lily sat on the sofa beside her son. "Shh, honey, it was just a nightmare," she said as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in close. His arms slid around her waist as he pressed his cheek into her shoulder, body shaking in reaction. 

"It was so real." Harry's voice shook as he spoke. "Not like a regular dream. I felt like... like I was there." He pulled back slightly to look up into his mother's face. "Like I was the one attacking him. Biting him." He shivered then pressed in close again, arms tightening around her. 

Lily and James shared a worried glance over Harry's head.

"Harry," James began slowly, choosing his words with care, "Can you tell us more about it? It might make you feel better to get it out."

"I dunno," Harry muttered, eyes squeezed shut. "It was so horrible, dad, I don't even want to think about it!"

"Look at me, Honey. Trust me," Lily encouraged him, and Harry looked up at them both. James silently cast a Legilimens, gently slipping past the surface and into the turmoil gripping Harry's mind.

He took a shaky breath and finally nodded. "There was a dark room, and this man lying on the floor. He had his hands up, trying to protect himself… there was a snake that kept attacking him, except it felt like I was the snake, and it was me who was biting him!"

Lily gently ran her fingers over Harry's head as she once again caught her husband's glance. His face was grim and she felt a cold chill run through her. "I'm going to get you a little something to help you feel better."

It took a moment, but Harry finally let her go, and reluctantly, she stood up and followed James into the kitchen.

"Get him into his room and give him some dreamless sleep," James said urgently. "I need to floo Sirius. I think Arthur Weasley may be in danger."

She nodded and went to the cupboard to get the potion. They had thought the Harry was free of this connection. After the nightmares in 8th grade, a healer from the Order had placed powerful veiling spells on Harry. They'd considered a specially brewed version of dreamless sleep as well, but it was not without possible side effects. Dumbledore had assured them that with protection spells and the distance, it was very unlikely that Voldemort's magic would have any influence over Harry. His freshman year had been nightmare free, but now it was happening again – Voldemort was tainting Harry's dreams. She took a deep breath and fought back the tears as she measured out a dose and brought it to Harry.

"You look pretty knackered, honey," she said as she handed him the cup. He took it and tossed it back in one swallow, wincing at the taste. He gave her a look.

"If I wasn't before, I am now," he said, rising from the sofa with the stretch. "That stuff always knocks me on my butt in five minutes flat. You could have at least let me get to my room first," he said reproachfully.

Lily laughed. "You wouldn't have taken it if I'd waited."

They walked down the hall together, and she stood by his door as he walked into his room and pulled off his shirt. He paused, then glanced at her before looking at the floor. "I feel stupid," he said tossing the shirt on the chair and sitting on the bed. "Freaking out like a baby about a dream." He looked back up, and the fear in his eyes hit her like a bludger to the head. "It was just a dream. It wasn't real."

She walked in and sat beside him on the bed, putting and arm around his shoulders. "You're safe, honey." Before she could say more, Lily felt him slump against her. Gently, she eased him back onto the bed and pulled his comforter up over him. "I promise I'll keep you safe if it's the last thing I do."

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*

_7th Year_

“Does it hurt?" The question escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it. 

"Dying? Not at all," said Sirius. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”  
  
  
  
"You'll stay with me?"

"Until the very end," said James.  
  
  
  
Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear –

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

_Senior Year_

Lily heard the crack of apparition, and shook her head. So careless when he was worried about Harry – it was good thing she'd forced a dose of Dreamless Sleep down Harry's throat five minutes earlier.

Seconds later, James appeared at the bedroom door. "Was it another… episode?" his voice was hushed as he asked, not entirely certain if Harry was awake.

Lily looked up at her husband from where she sat at Harry's bedside. James' face was drawn, worry etching deep lines between his brows. "It's getting worse." Her voice was weary, her eyes red. "Despite increasing the dosage, they just keep coming." She ran a thumb gently over Harry's cheek and dropped a kiss on his forehead, then stood up and walked out the door.

James pulled the door shut behind him with a soft click and followed her to the front room where they both collapsed on the couch and clutched at each other.

"Tell me everything," he instructed. "I'm so sorry I couldn't make it sooner." He rubbed reassuring circles on her back with one hand and wrapped his other arm loosely around her waist. "Work is really… complicated right now." She curled into his chest, grateful he was home.

"The school called. They said he collapsed in class this time." She kept her voice even, but she couldn't hold back the tears. "Grace was with him, thank Merlin. She had his injector out and was administering the dose before the teacher even reached him. At least that kept the pain manageable until I got there." She pulled in a shaky breath. "It's so hard, James, every time this happens – he looks so confused and terrified, because he has no context, because every time we take it all away from him." 

"It's for the best, Lily," James spoke quietly, and the pain in his voice made her want to weep for him as well. "We agreed. We take away these bits of horror that Vol— that You-Know-Who foists on him and leave him with the muffled impression of weird dreams. This is the price of the choice we made to keep him out of the Wizarding world. Since he can't learn Occlumency, this is the least intrusive way to keep him safe and protect his mind."

"It destroys me, bit by bit, every time I have to oblivate my own son. Even if it is to protect him. Even if they are horrible visions from _him_." She pressed her forehead against James' shoulder, her hands twisting in the fabric of his robes. "Even so, every time I lift my wand and strip it away from his mind, every time I watch his eyes glaze over and whisper lies in his ear, I feel as though I'm violating my child and if he knew, he'd hate me. He'd never forgive me." She let out a sob. "I just want it to stop! I just want him to be free of it!"

James' hold on her tightened, and he rocked her gently as she cried. "I do too, darling. I hate that this is happening to him, but I just hold on to the fact that, at least we're getting actionable intelligence. If Harry wasn't getting these terrible visions, we never would have seen Vol—" he cut himself, all too aware that distance didn't guarantee they were safe from the taboo. "We wouldn’t have seen _his_ plot to replace Scrimgeour or known that Thicknesse was under an imperious. Alistair was able to reach Gregorovitch and Ollivander in time to place them both under the Order's protection. I mean, Lily! _He_ was poised to take over the Wizengamot and would have controlled the DMLE, but because of Harry, we stopped it. Harry's our secret weapon, and _he's_ unable to protect his secrets because _he_ doesn't realize he's giving them all away."

Lily turned her tear-stained face up to her husband's. "So far, but what happens if _he_ finds out? And James, most important of all – at what cost to our son?"

He lifted a hand and smoothed the back of his fingers over her cheek, shaking his head helplessly. "I don't know, Lily, but I don't know what else to do."

She took a deep breath and pulled back slightly, grabbing his hand and enfolding it in her own. "This has to end. _Now_ , James. I didn't insist on keeping Harry out of our world, away from you-know-who and his Death Eaters just to be consumed by nightmare visions that disrupt his life and a fragmented existence from multiple oblivations." She held up a hand to cut him off as he started to reply. "No! It stops as of today. We need to find a potion or a spell or an enchanted amulet or some combination of all three, but this stops before it destroys Harry and our family. Promise me, James. Promise me, here and now. The Order is going to have to gather intelligence without Harry. I will _not_ let them use him anymore."

"I promise, Lily." He nodded slowly, troubled look fading into resolve. "No more."

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*


	3. Objective Reality

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*

Draco Malfoy sat perfectly still in the small office in the Ministry of Magic. Despite his inner turmoil, it did not become a Malfoy to outwardly display any sign that he was less than perfectly composed. Madam Consano signed and dated the thick document in front of her, then pushed it across the desk and held the quill out to him. He gripped it tightly to quiet the tiny tremor in his hand as he signed where indicated, then set the quill down before folding his hands back in front of him. He stared at the document, very conscious of the fact he she was studying him. After a moment she spoke.

"You do understand, Mr. Malfoy, that as per this agreement, I will expect you to fully participate in this process."

Draco nodded, eyes dropping to the floor. He cursed his fair complexion and how it betrayed him. He hoped that she would assume it was shame and remorse rather the anger and humiliation.

"I am glad." She clasped her hands together and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the desk. Her expression was serious but not overtly hostile, a welcome change for the contempt he was used to seeing lately on the face of every person he passed. "I will schedule the one-to-one sessions and let you know well in advance of when you are expected, and work with Headmistress McGonagall so as not to interfere with your studies."

He felt his stomach twist. "Sessions?" he asked, voice shaky. 

Madam Consano raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy." She opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped, considering him carefully. "Tell me, what exactly do you think this process entails?"

He gave her a suspicious look. "At the sentencing, I was told I had a choice and my solicitor advised me I'd be foolish not to take it," he replied stiffly, a fresh rush of humiliation at the way the ministry solicitor had implied at length he was entirely undeserving of being offered a choice at all. "I could either allow the Wizangamot to determine my sentence, or I could choose to participate in some kind of victim restitution."

After a moment, she dropped her head forward and shook it before looking back up at him with her lips pressed in a thin line. "And?" she pressed on.

He could feel a sweat breaking on his brow, despite his best efforts to maintain his poise. "I… I thought it would involve money, because restitution would imply that to me. Or perhaps indentured servitude at the behest of the ministry for a period of time. I wasn't entirely sure, but it certainly seemed better than Azkaban." Draco struggled to recall everything he'd been told at the time, but he was certain there had been no mention of sessions or meetings, and he felt his heart racing at the thought of what it might entail.

She lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "So, what you're telling me is, they dangled this in front of you as your only smart option, but no one actually bothered _explaining_ anything about the process you were agreeing to?" 

He swallowed and shook his head, fear gripping him. This did not sound good at all. What in the world had he gotten himself trapped into in his desperation to stay out of Azkaban? He clenched his hands tightly in his lap to keep them from visibly shaking.

"I see." She let out a sigh and settled back into her chair. "I promise you, it’s nothing horrible," she said, noting his distress and giving him a wry smile. "It’s quite innovative, really. We’re emulating a muggle practice called restorative justice. It requires the offender - you - to acknowledge what you’ve done and show genuine remorse. Furthermore, you must demonstrate a willingness to do whatever work required to reintegrate into the wizarding community. You are correct in that it often does involved some money, and labour – though no indentured servitude, nothing like that!" she assured him. "You will engage in agreed upon restitution for your actions and damage you caused during the war. Most importantly, you will be making direct amends to anyone you have harmed who wants to be a part of the mediated justice process – wizarding or muggle."

He had no idea what his expression was, but it must have been horrible judging from the way Madam Consano jumped up and rushed around her desk. He was distantly aware that he was slipping out of his seat as his whole body went limp and his vision began to gray out.

"Mr. Malfoy!" she cried out, catching him just before his head hit the floor. "Come on now, sit up. There you go, head between your knees." She urged him into a sitting position with her hand between his shoulder blades. "Just calm down and take deep breaths now, there we are…"

He’d thought he’d hit bottom before, but he’d been wrong. He was still sinking. He was sitting cross legged on the office floor of a member of the Wizengamot, hyperventilating. And somehow, he had to find within him the strength to face dozens, possibly hundreds of people who hated him, and grovel before them to ask forgiveness while they spit on him and mocked him. He should have taken Azkaban.

"I can’t," he whispered, voices breaking. "How can I face them all? They _hate_ me! Most of them want me dead! And I have to sit there and just _let_ them yell at me or hex me, and do whatever they say to make up for everything I've done…" And suddenly, it was all just too much. He covered his face with his hands, trying to hold back the tears, but he was well and truly broken.

After a few moments, he felt her lay a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, dear. I shall have someone’s head over this," she said. "Mr. Malfoy - Draco. Look at me. I need you to listen to me, please."

He slowly lifted his face from his hands to find her looking at him, not with the disgusted expression he expected for a cowardly former Death Eater, but one of compassion, even concern.

"I swear, _no one_ is going to be yelling at or hexing you on my watch. This is a mediated process and I will be with you every step of the way." She shook her head. "I can’t believe no one explained this to you," she grumbled as she got to her feet. "Come now, up off the floor, there’s a good lad," she said, reaching out a hand to help him.

He was beyond mortified, but accepted her help without reservation, gratefully settling back into the chair as she moved back behind her desk. She looked at him again, took a deep breath and let it out forcefully. "I apologize," she said, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

She held up a hand. "I should have made sure you understood that document before you signed it, but I assumed - foolishly - that my colleagues would have done their jobs rather than treat your sentencing as an opportunity to lord their power over you simply because they could."

The unexpected kindness was making his throat hurt with repressed emotion and he struggled to keep the tears back - he didn’t want to break down again.

"Let me make this as simple and clear as possible. Yes, you will be expected to speak with and make amends to all the people who want you to do so - but they must demonstrate to me that they are truly interested in justice, not revenge. I _will not_ allow anyone to pillory you when you are in such a vulnerable place." She stared directly at him. The look on her face was fierce and Draco found that he believed her.

"Part of this process is you being completely honest and forthright about why you did the things you did when you ask for forgiveness, but as long as you do your part without reservation, I promise, I _will_ protect you. And you will have a voice in what the restitution is, Mr. Malfoy. It must be mutually acceptable to both parties, and _I_ am the final arbiter on if an act of restitution is suitable. So, rest assured, no one will be forcing you into doing anything I feel is objectionable."

He drew a shuddering breath and slowly nodded and Madam Consano smiled. "Very good, I'm glad we have that settled. Now, officially, we are done for today…" She trailed off, giving him a shrewd look before turning to open a desk drawer and pull out a folder. "But I thought, perhaps, we might briefly discuss who you should meet with first."

Draco nodded gratefully, relieved that she was giving him a chance to regain his composure before having to run the gauntlet of sneers he would face upon leaving her office.

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

Lily heard the floo chime, and reflexively checked for Harry before shaking her head with a smile. He was staying in the university dorm this year, and it was still hard to get used to the fact he wasn’t around.

After the attempted coup on the Wizengamot last year, the DMLE had started hunting Voldemort's followers with renewed vigor. The Death Eaters had been on the defensive ever since and attacks had all but ceased. After Lily's ultimatum, they had worked with the healer to change Harry's potion regime. In conjunction with the protective spells and a charmed talisman Harry worse, things had drastically improved. Harry still had his headaches quite often, but the visions were now fuzzy and indistinct, like real nightmares. 

She and James had both wanted him to live at home while attending college, worried about what could happen if the visions came back. They'd advocated against the dorm for "health reasons". Harry had vehemently disagreed.

> "Oh my GOD, mom!" Harry threw his hand frustration. "Rob and Gracie both know more about my condition than the any on-campus doctor will," he shot back, crossing his arms. "They know how to give me my Imitrix if I can't do it. Also," he pointed out, with a smirk, "We're in most of the same classes and planning on living together in the co-ed housing, so the chance I'm going to have a seizure and die while I'm alone is virtually non-existent."
> 
> Lily's heart skipped a beat at Harry's causal dismissal of her fears, but before she could say anything, James came down on him like a ton of bricks. "Don't you sass your mother like, Harry!" James snapped, eyes flashing. "You want to be treated like an adult, then you take our concerns about your health seriously. Don't be a git."
> 
> Harry's cheeks flushed and he dropped his gaze to the floor before looking back Lily. "I'm sorry, mom," he said, tone contrite. "I know how you worry. I just…" He looked over at James and then back at Lily and she could see the naked longing on his face. "I really want to do this. I've felt so much better the last 6 months. I've been sick with these migraines and seizures for so long, and I just… I just want to have a normal life and do the stupid 17 year old things like stay up too late and work on my paper at 4am and binge watch movies with my friends in the dorm all weekend long! Please, please, please?" He reached out and took her hand between his. "One semester. Let me try for one semester, and if it crashes and burns, then I'll come home, no arguments, I promise!"
> 
> Lily glanced at James. He just gave her a helpless look, shrugging as he shook his head, as if to say, 'kids – what are you going to do?' She looked back at Harry and pressed her lips together as she studied his earnest face. She took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.
> 
> "You'll call right away, day or night, if you need us?"
> 
> He nodded frantically. "Yes, absolutely!"
> 
> She narrowed her eyes. "Even if you don't think you need us, if the migraines get bad of the seizures start up and the medication doesn't control them, you will call."
> 
> He was less enthusiastic about that, but finally nodded again. "Yes, fine."
> 
> "Promise me."
> 
> He rolled his eyes. "Yes, ok! I promise!"
> 
> "One semester," she agreed. "And then we reassess." She tilted her chin do to stare pointedly down her nose at him. "And there better not be too many 4am papers and weekend long movie marathons, love. I expect to see excellent grades; if you want to live in the dorm, you need to keep your GPA up!"
> 
> A second later she was engulfed on a bone crushing hug. "Thank you mom, thank you, thank you!" He twirled her around the kitchen, laughing and smiling. "It's going to be so great, everything's going to work out just fine, just you wait and see!"  
> 

He'd been right – things had gone very well, so much so, they'd easily agreed he could stay in the dorm for a second semester. It was odd not to be tripping over his footie gear or reminding him to put his dirty jumpers in the wash. She settled down on her knees in front of the fireplace as Sirius's face appeared.

"Hullo, Lils," he said with a yawn.

"It's good to see you, Sirius," she replied with a smile. "It's been too long."

"True," he said, then grimaced. "Unfortunately, there is a reason for that. And it's not a good one."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Tell me," she demanded. "Is it him?"

Sirius nodded. "They're back in action, no question. The dark mark has been spotted several places in the last few weeks, with accompanying attacks on half-blood and muggleborn wizard families. And last weekend, there was an attack on a muggle town." He rubbed a hand over his face. "We've managed to round up a few of them, but there are more. Too many more."

"Damn it," she muttered. "Do you have any idea what they plan next?"

"Yes," he said, nodding slowly. "But you need to call James. He has to hear this, too."

Lily felt her heart turn to ice. That could only mean one thing. She turned, grabbed her wand and cast. "Expecto Patronum!" she declared, focusing on all the love in her heart for James and Harry, and her doe burst into view in the front room. "James, Sirius says come now, it's urgent."

The doe bounded away, vanishing through the wall in a moment, and she turned to Sirius.

"I do hope he's not with any of his muggle coworkers right now," she said, frowning. "We really don't like having to Obliviate them. They have a great deal of muggle technology that records everything they're doing all the time, and it's difficult to explain away even momentary gaps," she said, shaking her head. "They're very suspicious and intelligent. And unlike most muggles, they're generally quite willing to believe things that seem impossible."

Sirius chuckled at that. "They sound like good candidates for Gryffindor."

"James has remarked the same more than once," she agreed.

She heard the crack of apparition behind her and looked over her shoulder to where James had just appeared. He quickly crossed the room and settled down beside her, dropping a quick kiss on her lips before turning to face Sirius.

"Padfoot, what's going on?"

"It's about as bad as it can get, Prongs," he said grimly. "Our source on the inside has confirmed that _he's_ reprioritized. Locating Harry is back at the top of his agenda." He looked back at Lily. "They went after the Dursleys."

"Petunia!" Lily cried out, leaning closer to the fireplace as James wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Are they hurt?"

He shook his head. "Just shaken up. Not too happy to be under the protection of, now how did he put it? 'A bunch of freaks' I think it was."

"Vernon." James spat out the name in disgust.

Sirius nodded. "You've got it in one." He cocked his head to one side. "Your nephew's not so bad. A little slow, maybe, but when he's not around his parents, he's almost – pleasant." His expression grew solemn. "They appear to have started operating in cells this last year, likely in an attempt to keep information sequestered. The last few Death Eaters we brought had barely enough details to be useful, even under veritaserum and using legilimency. We think Old Mouldy finally realized we're blocking everything he's directly involved with." Sirius' expression changed, as if he'd bitten into something sour. "Well, we _were_ , anyway."

"I'm not going to apologize for that!" Lily snapped, scowling at Sirius. "Harry is doing so much better now! He used to be exhausted all the time, missing school and falling behind on his work, afraid to sleep because of the nightmares. Now, he's excelling in most of his classes, living in the dorm and finally able to do a lot of the things a boy his age should! He deserves a life that is more than just serving as a conduit for the Order to learn about You-Know-Who's plans!"

"I know, Lils, I agree. I want the very best for that godson of mine." Sirius shook his head with a sigh. "The thing is, it may have been too little, too late. We learned that _he's_ been sending Death Eaters to various cities on the East and West Coast. New Haven, Cambridge, Berkeley, New York, Pasadena… do those names mean anything to you?" 

Lily and James traded a look. "Schools," James replied, arm tightening around Lily's shoulders before he returned his gaze to Sirius. "This term, the kids have been talking about the different schools they'd like to attend."

"Harry and his friends often come for dinner on Sundays," Lily explained at Sirius' puzzled look. "When he's not complaining about his chemistry professor, he and Grace are usually arguing over Stanford versus MIT. But how would _he_ know?" 

James' face went tight. "It's leaking through. _He's_ starting to pick up on Harry's thoughts, isn't he?" 

"That’s what we're afraid of, Prongs," Sirius replied. "If that _is_ what's happening, you know it's only a matter of time till _he_ discovers where you are, and the Fidelius Charm isn't going to protect Harry when he's living at Uni and attending classes." His voice dropped, soft and sad. "It's time to come home and we'll fight together. You can't keep Harry safe there anymore. You can't face You-Know-Who alone and the Order simply doesn't have the resources to send a team abroad."

James and Lily looked at each other and then back at Sirius. "We've got to discuss it," Lily said. "We'll get back to you as soon as we've decided what to do."

Sirius nodded. "Let me know as soon as you can." With that, the fire flared and his face vanished from the flames.

"I'm not going back, James," Lily declared before James could even open his mouth. "Harry's life is here. His friends, everything he knows. There's nothing for him in England!" She jumped to her feet and began to pace, arms wrapped tightly around her torso. "He won't have any kind of life there. They'll want to lock him down, because he can't protect himself, so he'll be stuck in a house in London. And you know Harry, it will drive him mad, and he'll find a way past the wards, you _know_ he will, magic or no magic! And they won't be able to protect him, so what difference does it make if we stay here or if we go back? At least here, he's happy. He has his life and his friends."

"You're leaving out the most important thing," James said quietly, coming up behind her to gently slide his arms around her.

She drew a deep breath and let out a sigh. "We'd have to tell him about magic if we went back."

"Yes, we would," he agreed, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"You remember how much he loved those stories," she said, leaning back against him. "The Narnia chronicles, Beedle the Bard, Lord of the Rings. You remember how he named his stuffed bunny Babbitty, how he dressed up as Gandalf for Halloween, how he wanted to fly, how he wished magic was real-" her voice broke into a sob, and she turned in his embrace to throw her arms around him. "Oh James, how do we explain to our boy that all the things he so desperately dreamed for as a child were real, but were stolen from him and that we kept it a secret?"

James stood and held her, his stalwart presence as always, her comfort and shelter amidst the storm of fear and indecision that gripped her. She knew going back wasn't an option, but she didn't know what she could do to protect Harry.

"Lily," James said quietly, and she looked up at him through her tears. He lifted a hand to gently brush her hair out of her face. "I have an idea about where we could send Harry. Somewhere that You-Know-Who could never find him."

She pulled back just a little to see his face better. "Tell me," she encouraged.

He looked at her hesitantly. "First, I need to tell you about something that is very secret, both to the muggle and wizarding worlds." He pulled away but took her hand and led her over to the sofa where they settled down together.

"What is it, James?"

"Do you remember a few years ago, when a couple wizards were brainwashed into being part of the Muggle cult? And the Air Force got involved because some of their officers got messed up in it as well?"

Lily nodded. She mostly remembered James being very disconcerted by the whole affair, but not willing to talk about it. They'd moved here because he'd somehow ended up working with the Air Force after that, ostensibly as a British intelligence liaison to some deep space telemetry program. She looked at him askance. "What happened that you didn't tell me?"

"Oh, Lily." He gave a little huff of laughter and shook his head. "Let me tell you about something the Air Force calls the Stargate Program – and how they have found the very real lost city of Atlantis."


	4. Quantum Equilibrium

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

Hal stared at his chem textbook and tried to focus, but all the words just jumbled together. His head was pounding, and since he'd skipped breakfast to make it to the study session on time, he was starving too. His term paper on d-block transition metals was due Wednesday, but he would rather be doing anything else. He enjoyed his other courses, even the humanities - sociology was not that bad, no matter what Rob said - but Chem 1411 was the bane of his existence. It didn’t help that the prof was both boring as dirt and seemed to hate him. He let his head fall on his laptop keyboard and groaned dramatically.

"Quit whining, Hal," Grace said as her fingers flew over own keyboard. "I'm trying to create a coherent paper from the mess of notes you and Rob gave me for our… Dynamics group project and you…" she trailed off frowning, and the typing stopped. Her face brightened a moment later and the typing resumed. "You’re distracting me."

He lifted his face off just high enough to glare at her. "Yeager hates me," he complained then let his head fall again. "I don’t even know why I bother," he continued to talk, voice muffled by the keyboard he was speaking into. "I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t flunk me."

A second later, he jerked away from a sudden pain. "Ow! What the hell!" he snapped, scowling at Grace.

"I warned you," she said, smiling angelically. "You whine, I flick."

"She’s vicious, man," Rob piped in from across the table. 

Hal rubbed his ear. "How come you never flick his ear?" he demanded. "He whines a lot!"

Rob looked at Hal from over his glasses. "I’m smart enough not to whine around her when she’s working," he pointed out. "Also, I stay on the other side of the table, just in case." 

Hal thought about it for a second, then nodded with a shrug. As much as Rob could yammer on about D&D, the hottest new video card he was getting for his computer and his conspiracy theories a la Lone Gunman, he did keep pretty quiet during their study groups. Hal leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out above him, letting out a sigh of relief at the pop of vertebrae realigning. 

"That’s it," he declared, pushing his chair back and standing up. He leaned down to save his document and then snapped his laptop closed and slipped it into his knapsack. "I’ll go mental if I stare at this screen any longer. I need some fresh air." His stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly enough that people the next table over looked up, and his friends started cracking up. He could feel a flush rising up from his collar. "And maybe pizza."

Rob snapped to attention at that. "I’m in," he said, rapidly typing a few keystrokes before closing his laptop. 

Hal looked down at Grace. "Well? You coming?"

She let out an annoyed huff. "Honestly!" she complained, saving her work and then glaring at the two of them while she packed up her computer. "It’s amazing the two of you ever get any work done!"

Hal grinned as he shouldered his backpack. "We have you to nag us," he replied, quickly dancing out of range as she took a swing to smack his arm, fingertips barely grazing him. "Which we’re grateful for!" he followed up quickly, breaking into a run as she pursued him toward the library doors. "No, it’s a good thing! Grace, don’t! Ow! Fuck, stop hitting me!"

Rob followed along behind the two of them shaking his head. "I told you, man, she’s vicious."  
  
  
  
Approximately twenty minutes later, they were sitting around a small table at [Il Vicino's](https://ilvicino.com/) making short work of a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza.

"Oh my god, this is the best pizza ever," Grace moaned before taking another huge bite and chewing happily.

"Be better with pineapple," Rob shot back. Hal rolled his eyes as he took another bite of his own slice and waited for the inevitable argument to start.

"Heathen!" Grace mumbled around a mouthful of pizza. She aimed a kick at Rob's leg, but he was expecting that and had already moved out of reach.

Before the argument could really get rolling, Hal's cell rang. He hurriedly swallowed his pizza as he dug out his phone. It was his dad's number. 

"Hi dad," he said.

"Harry, where are you?"

He drew his brows together in puzzlement. There was something _off_ about his dad's tone. "Uhm… getting lunch with Gracie and Rob. Is everything ok?"

There was a hesitation before his father continued. "Yes… but I have some exciting news for you. It concerns Miss Leung and Mr. Fierro as well."

Over the next few minutes, Rob and Grace looked at him with concern as Hal's expression grew dazed and his mouth fell open. He finally disconnected the call with a faint goodbye and they jumped on him.

"Hal, what's wrong?" Grace demanded. "What did your dad say?"

Hal looked at them blankly for just a moment, then let out an amazed laugh. "You guys remember that 'top secret' student exchange thing my dad talked us into applying for? With the deep space telemetry?"

Rob nodded. "That thing I said was a cover for studying aliens?"

"You're such a dork!" Grace laughed, giving him a shove. 

Rob just grinned. "Yeah, what about it?" he asked.

Hal swallowed. "Were you guys really serious? That you would do it?"

"Oh my god!" Grace gasped, clutching at Rob's arm. "Hal! That was only a week ago! They got back to us already? Did we get in?"

Hal nodded. "When dad put in the application, I told him I didn't want to go without you guys. I mean, we're a team, right?" He shook his head, still stunned by the news. "I can't believe it. We _all_ got in. It's almost too good to be true!" He looked at them both searchingly. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" He narrowed his gaze on Grace. "I thought you only did it on a whim because you figured we'd never get picked."

"Well yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't want to go with you!" she said, smiling happily. "I guess it was meant to be!" 

"I swear to god," Rob laughed, shaking his head. "The weirdest shit always happens around you, Hal, ever since we were kids. It's like you lead a charmed life or something." He gave them a mock serious look and leaned in close over the table. "Or, like I've always said. We're actually living in the Truman show, and there _is_ someone out there, running our lives and directing our every move."

"Oh, would you stop!" Grace shouted, and Hal chuckled as Rob put up his hands to fend off a swat.

"So," Grace turned to Hal, eyeing him inquisitively. "Did he finally tell you where it was? Is it a long drive? Do we have to fly?" She frowned. "Do I need a passport?"

"Dunno," he said, leaning back in his chair, running one hand through his hair. "He was cagey about the details. Said we all need to sign a non-disclosure agreement first. But, he said I should tell you that it would be _out of this world_."

Rob laughed. "Secret moonbase for sure!" he declared, earning an elbow from Grace.

Hal grinned despite his headache, and absently rubbed his forehead were the faint remnant of a childhood scar throbbed in time with his pulse. Whatever it was, he couldn't wait to find out.

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

"Have you seen this?"

Sheppard didn't bother looking up from the golf club he was polishing as McKay stomped into his room. "I can't _believe_ the IOA thinks this is a good idea!" He gestured at the tablet he was carrying, radiating affronted indignation as he waited for Sheppard to reply.

"Hi, Rodney," Sheppard drawled out, finally looking and flashing a sardonic grin. "Sure, come on in."

McKay narrowed his eyes, his mouth slanting down to one side as it always did when he was upset. "Oh, seriously, this is important!" he snapped. "I can't believe you're not as annoyed about this as I am!"

Sheppard tilted his head to one side, cocking an eyebrow. "Exactly what is it that I'm supposed to be annoyed about now?" he asked as he returned to polishing his nine iron.

McKay let out a huff of exasperation. "Don't you ever read your email?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"Not if I can avoid it." Sheppard inspected the club, and satisfied, put it down and picked up another. "Looking at you, I'm thinking avoidance was the right call today," he replied as he started polishing the attack wedge.

McKay grabbed the chair from Sheppard's desk and dragged it out to settle in across from where Sheppard sat on his bed. He thrust his tablet in Sheppard's face, making it impossible to ignore. "Read it," he ordered.

Sheppard glared up at him, then dropped the golf club in his bed and snatched the tablet out of McKay's hand. "I was having a nice afternoon, Rodney," he complained as he glanced down at the screen. "It was relaxing. No Genii, no Wraith, no _scientists_ ," he stressed the last word with a pointed look at McKay before he started to read. "Then you have to... bring me..." he trailed of, scrunching up his face in confusion as he read the announcement. "What the..." he looked up at McKay. "They want to do _what_?"

"I know, right?" McKay shot up from the chair and threw his hands up. "Because we don't have enough to do, trying to rein in the overexcited baby scientists they ship us, now they're going to send us _students_?" McKay started pacing. "I did _not_ sign up to be a teacher in an exchange program!" He rounded on Sheppard, crossing his arms. "You have to _do_ something about this!"

"Me?" Sheppard looked at him dubiously. "What do you expect _me_ to do about it? I mean, I agree with you, I think they're nuts, but this is still a civilian run operation, so you're going to have to take it up with Elizabeth."

"Don't you think I already _tried_ that?"

"Let me guess," Sheppard said, smirking. "She said something about amazing opportunities and then told you to stop being a whiner?"

"Asshole," McKay snapped at him, but Sheppard just grinned and gave him an inquiring look. McKay grimaced. "Very politely."

"Well, there's your answer, buddy," Sheppard said, shaking his head. He glanced at the email once more, and his face pulled back into a frown. "It's kinda weird, though," he mused. "I mean... that doesn't seem like Elizabeth." He looked back up at McKay. "She's all for learning and knowledge but, a student program?" He handed the tablet back. "I would have expected her to fight the IOA on this. We may have great defences and be well protected, but this is still a hot zone. This is risky move for her."

"Can you please just try to talk some sense into her, Sheppard?" He let out a huff of disgust. "I can't believe I'm reduced to asking _you_ to talk sense into _Elizabeth_!"

Sheppard just laughed at him. "I agree, buddy. Something is definitely wrong in the universe if it's come to that."

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

Howls of fury shook Malfoy Manor.

Draco sat at the table with the rest of the Death Eaters, his head bowed low as the Dark Lord stormed up and down the length of the room, Nagini slithering along beside him. Even Bellatrix seemed cowed in the face of his anger. Draco kept his eyes downcast; the last thing he wanted to do was attract the Dark Lord's attention when he was in such a rage.

With a roar, Voldemort pointed his wand at a large, decorative vase on a table against the wall and flung a curse at it. The vase shattered into a million pieces, debris flying through the air, and out the corner of his eye, Draco saw his mother wince ever so slightly. It had been a priceless Black family heirloom. A moment later, Voldemort did it again, casting with a broad, sweeping motion, shattering all eight bay windows that overlooked the Manor grounds, sending a deadly spray of glass outward.

"Dolohov, Mulciber. Come forward." 

The two immediately rose from the table and went to stand before Voldemort . "I told you to bring me someone who could tell me where they have taken him." He caressed his wand, running his fingers over it as he spoke. "But the snivelling blood traitor you brought me knew nothing, and I _still don't know where he is_."

Before either could respond, Voldemort whipped his wand at them in a pattern Draco recognized all too well. "Crucio!"

Their screams filled the air as they both collapsed, writhing on the floor. Voldemort returned to pacing the length of the room, ignoring them. "No matter," he hissed. "We can still move forward while I continue my search for the boy." He stopped, turning to face the table. "My _faithful_ Death Eaters, look to me."

Unable to refuse the summons, Draco, as all the others around the table, lifted his gaze to the Dark Lord he had sworn to serve. 

"It is time to fully put into action the plans you have each created to bring glory to our cause. Punish the blood traitors. Begin the extermination of the mudbloods and muggle vermin. Rain down destruction and mayhem such as the world has never seen! By the time we are done, they will beg to offer the boy up to me as a sacrifice so I will stop." 

Insanity radiated from those unblinking, red eyes, and Draco shivered. "Go now, in my name." Voldemort lifted his wand, almost negligently, and flicked it at the two men still screaming and writing on the floor. "Avada Kedavra!" The sudden silence was more deafening than the screams had been.

"Do not fail me."


	5. Observer Effect

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*

"I don't know, Draco," Pansy said, biting her lip worriedly. "It's only a rumor-"

"So far, every rumour about what Potter's done has turned out to be true," Draco cut her off as he glanced across the great hall to where Potter sat having breakfast with his friends. "If he was able to use it to defeat the Dark Lord when he was just a first year, think of how powerful the magic will be for me."

She frowned at him and shook her head slowly. "I don't think it works the way you think it works," she said slowly. "It's supposed to give you what you long for most, right?" she mused, tapping the fingers of one hand on the table, her nose scrunched up in thought. "What if you wanted wings? Do they just sprout out of your back? Or you wanted a crup? Does that mean one jumps out of the mirror and into your arms?"

Draco gave her a disgusted look. "I don't want _wings_ or a _crup_!" He looked down at his clenched hands and drew a steadying breath. "I want to make things right. I want it more than anything."

"I _know_ that," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm just saying that I think it's more complicated than finding it and simply wishing. You're talking about changing events that already happened. Magic powerful enough to undo things – that's dangerous, Draco. The kind of dangerous that can get you killed – or worse."

"I know there are risks," he conceded. "But there are so many things I could make right, Pans!" His expression was haunted. "I had no idea how many people were affected by the things I did. If I could just change things – people who were hurt, not being tortured or maimed. People who were killed, reunited with their families." One side of his mouth pulled up in a weak grin. "I could be the hero for once."

She cocked her head over to one side. "What, exactly, do you think is going to happen? You'll walk up to the mirror – if you can even find it – and say, 'I'd like everything to…' what? Go back to normal? The way things were before You-Know-Who?" She crossed her arms, studying him as his expression darkened. "And then what? The past changes, just like that? You go back in time and get a do-over? Or maybe –" 

He stood up abruptly, accidentally knocking a glass of pumpkin juice across the table in his haste. "Fine Pansy!" he hissed, not caring that he was drawing exactly the kind of attention he'd been trying so hard to avoid this year. "Clearly, I was foolish to think I could confide in you and expect your support. Going forward, I will be sure to keep my ill-advised plans to myself. Good evening."

With that terse dismissal, he turned away and strode away, robes fluttering behind him.  
  
  
  
"I don't know, Hermione," Ron said, shaking his head as he grabbed another piece bacon. "I mean, Malfoy, apologizing? And you really believe that he meant it?"

"I do," Hermione said, frowning. "Ron, do you really think I would be defending Malfoy if I wasn’t convinced he was genuine?" She turned back to her plate and picked up her orange. "I’ll admit he looked sort of like he was chewing on glass, or about to be sick - or maybe both," she said as she made quick work of removing the peel. "But there was no doubt in my mind he was sincere. And, he was also willing to give a talk to the first years about prejudice and blood status and why they should never, ever use terms like mudblood. You didn’t see the look in his eyes when he asked me for forgiveness. I believe him." She gave a satisfied nod and stuck an orange section in her mouth.

"Blimey!" Ron's eyes were wide with disbelief. "I heard one of the Ravenclaws - you know, Shelia Barnet? She was talking about her meetings with him. She said he actually went to her home, had tea with her and her mum, and then planted a tree in their garden in remembrance of her dad." He grinned. "I thought he must have charmed her or something, but if he really did it? Picture that, will you. Malfoy, on his knees, digging in the dirt. In a muggle neighbourhood no less, with no magic, and having to ask forgiveness from people he used to think were beneath him." He let out a laugh. "Too bad the Prophet didn’t get a picture of that on the front page, hey Harry? I’d love to wave that in his face!"

"Ron!" Hermione scowled at her boyfriend. "That is entirely the wrong attitude! I understand that you want Malfoy to get what’s coming to him, and there is no doubt there should be justice – no one should just get away with hurting others after all. But deliberately trying to humiliate him when he’s working hard trying to make amends is spiteful and petty!"

"He’d do the same thing if the situation was reversed!"

"That’s my point, exactly!" she fumed. "Isn’t that the very behaviour that we’re supposed to be above? Don't we pride ourselves on being better than that? You agree with me, don't you, Harry?" 

Harry deliberately took a huge bite of his eggs and refused to get sucked into the argument. He personally hadn't wanted anything to do with it, but Madam Consano had approached him right after Malfoy’s trial and backed him into a corner. She'd gone on about how, if he was serious when he’d said he didn’t think Draco belonged in Azkaban, he needed to prove it. That his willingness would likely sway the chief justice to allow the process as an alternative to prison. That it would encourage other victims to participate as well. She alluded to how it could go very badly for Malfoy if he refused, and he’d reluctantly agreed. 

Despite his promise, he'd been postponing for months now. Whenever she tried to schedule him to meet with the pointy git, he put it off for one reason or another. Harry just couldn’t see how any good could come from the two of them talking. As far as he was concerned, it was best to let it lie. Dredging it up could only end very badly for both of them. Probably in a duel.

He took another bite and continued to ignore his friends' argument. Without conscious thought, his eyes sought out the very person who was the center of the discussion. Malfoy sat with Parkinson at the Slytherin table, the two of them set apart from the others, talking intensely. Parkinson looked very concerned, and Malfoy had that look his face that Harry recognized from sixth year. He'd seen it on him a lot these last few weeks. Malfoy was up to something, Harry knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. He kept watching them, and whatever it was that Parkinson said next set Malfoy off, because he stood abruptly and stalked out of the hall with Parkinson hot on his heels a moment later. Harry dropped his fork on his plate and scrambled to his feet, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and went to follow them.

"Harry!" Hermione called out, dismayed. "Tell me you are not going after Malfoy!"

He glanced back at her. "He’s up to something," he said, and shrugged. "I’ve got to go."  
  
  
  
"Draco, wait!" Pansy called out, scrambling to her feet to follow him. She ran, yelling his name as he went down the corridor, but he ignored her. She struggled to make up the gap between them, but with his long legs and swift stride, he quickly outpaced her. He turned down the first hallway to the right, and by the time she got there a few moments later, he had vanished.

"Damn it, Draco!" she said, frustration melting into weariness. "I just want you to think about the consequences of what you're doing," she whispered, shaking her head.

"And what is it he's doing?" asked a voice from behind her. She spun around with a gasp, losing her balance and stumbling backward as she did so. She would have fallen but for the hands that caught her arms and steadied her.

She looked up warily to find Potter's face inches from hers and jerked back slightly. He loosened his grip slightly but didn't let her go.

"He's not doing something stupid, is he?" Potter continued, his expression a mix of suspicious and resigned, as if he expected that of course, Draco could only be up to no good. Stung, Pansy wrenched herself free of his grasp.

"It's none of your business what he's doing," Pansy informed him archly, drawing herself up straight and giving him a cold stare.

Potter's expression hardened. "It's my business if he's doing something illegal, or putting people at risk," he snapped back, taking a step forward to loom slightly over her. "What is he up to, Parkinson?"

She didn't back down as he invaded her space, meeting him chest to chest, and he blinked, a slightly befuddled expression on his face. "He's not up to anything bad or illegal," she said, scowling at him. "But I know you think he's just an evil Death Eater, so there's nothing I can say to convince you otherwise."

Potter's mouth dropped open in surprise, and he took a step back. "I didn't say – I don't think that," he said, frowning.

She let out a snort. "Oh, really?" she said, cocking an eyebrow at him. "So, you believe that he has the best of intentions and you're willing to trust him then?"

"Oh, come on!" he protested. "With his history, I have every right to be…" Potter stopped for a moment, considering. "Well… cautious," he finished with a nod.

"So, what I originally said then," she dismissed him with a wave. "It doesn't really matter what he's doing or what I tell you because you've already decided that it's evil."

His face darkened with anger. "That is _not_ what I said, Parkinson!" he insisted loudly, shaking a finger at her. "And if it's so innocent, why won't you tell me?"

"If you don't really assume that everything he does is evil, why do you have to know?" she yelled back. "Who appointed you the ultimate judge and arbiter of Draco's actions? You have no idea what he's going through!"

"What _he's_ going–" Potter let out a huff disbelief. "Pardon me if I'm not overwrought with concern over what Draco is going through as a direct result of his own actions!"

They stared at each other for a moment, both of them breathing hard, trying to rein in their emotions. Pansy took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then closed her eyes and let her head fall forward.

"Why did you testify for Draco at his trial, Potter? Why did you agree to participate in the restorative justice process at all when you clearly don't think he deserves a second chance, and you refuse to even meet with him?"

She looked up at him then, watching the play of emotions across his face as he struggled for an answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and rough. "I do. Think he deserves a second chance, I mean." He locked eyes with her. "I know he was in an impossible situation. He was trying to protect his family. He hated the things Voldemort made him do." He curled his lip in revulsion as he pointed at his forehead. "I got to see flashes of how distraught it made him first-hand, thanks to this scar." He took a deep breath and looked away. "When I think about it, calmly, I know all these things. But the idea of sitting down and trying to talk to him about it – I don't see how that's going to do anything but stir up bad feelings."

He looked back at her. "And when I see him acting secretive, sneaking around the corridors, whispering with you, and then I actually overhear you say that _you_ wish he would think about what he's doing – I'd like it if I _could_ give him the benefit of the doubt." Pansy was surprised. Potter didn't look hostile or angry – he just looked tired. "It's hard not to be suspicious. I've had good reason to be in the past." 

She shook her head. "Then do it, Potter. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

He opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. She watched as he scrubbed a hand through his wild mop of hair, and waited for him to make a decision. He turned away from her, crossed his arms tightly over his chest and looked as if an epic battle were raging within. Finally, he turned back to her and let his hands drop to his sides.

"It's nothing nefarious?"

She crossed her own arms in response to the question and tapped her foot.

"Come on, just promise me? Nothing morally repugnant or dangerous?"

She bit her lip and looked at the floor for a moment before replying. "Nothing nefarious, or morally repugnant. Nothing that will put anyone else in danger."

He straightened at that, then leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Does that mean Malfoy might be putting himself in danger?"

She refused to meet his eyes. "I didn't say that!"

"You didn’t _not_ say that either," he shot back. Harry reached out and lightly placed a hand on her arm. "Is he doing something that could get him hurt?"

She let out a moan of despair covered her face with her hands. "I don't know!" she mumbled through her fingers.


	6. Phase Space

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

"In summary, those of you who have the ATA gene – don't touch _anything!_ Honestly, _none_ of you should! Sometimes, an ATA carrier simply being in the proximity of an ancient artifact is enough to initialize it, and then even non-gene carriers can use it to cause damage." McKay glared at the latest batch of newbies, catching the eyes of several he could tell were going to be trouble. He recognized that avaricious glint and thirst for knowledge. The desire to understand, to dive in and experience all Atlantis had to offer was a trait that made good researchers and scientists. But ignorance and unfettered zeal got too many of them injured or killed.

"If you happen to kill yourself, well that's just Darwinism in action. It won't make me cry, but your stupidity might kill the rest of us too. So, I don't care how interesting something seems, or even if it's calling out for you to touch it. And no, that's not an exaggeration – that can actually happen. There are dormant systems and weapons that will literally call out to gene carriers to activate them. I cannot stress this enough. Just… _don't_."

He let out a tired sigh and consulted the tablet in his hands for a moment. "Alright. Doctors Jones, Suarez and Edie. You're with Dr. Zelenka. Oh, and… Hughes?" He glanced up at the man and waved him in the direction of the other scientist. "You too. Looks like you might be passably knowledgeable about jumper systems. Go. Prove you actually belong here, and do what Radek tells you or he'll throw you off the end of the East pier."

"Do not listen to him," Zelenka told the group as he led them out of the lab. "I would do no such thing. Your bodies might be toxic to the local sea life," he said mildly. "More sensible to shove you into the city organics composter. Then at least you make a useful contribution."

Uneasy laughter trailed down the hall after him and McKay hid a chuckle behind his hand. People thought he was unpleasant to the newbies. They had no idea how frighteningly evil Radek Zelenka could be. McKay approved, though – anything that kept the baby scientists on their toes helped keep them alive. Maybe one of these days they would make it through a quarter without him having to write one of those letters to a family because some overachieving genius couldn't follow safety protocols.

He shook himself out of his gloomy musings and turned back to the tablet. "Ok, Doctors Baldi, O'Donnell and Delacroix." He pursed his lips – two of his potential trouble makers were in this group. "You're in the lab with me," he said, glowering at them as they began to protest. "Save your whining for someone who cares. And that would be exactly no one." He gestured imperiously at the whiteboard on the other side of the room. "Go. If the three of you can't figure that out inside of ten minutes, you have no business being here, and I'm shipping you back earthside during the next dial in to the SGC."

The three scientists scurried across the room with alacrity, complaints forgotten in favour of puzzling out the mess of incomplete formulae and equations on the whiteboard. McKay turned to the remaining three people.

"Leung, Potter, Fierro," he said with distaste. "I have zero interest in babysitting a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears freshmen. I argued long and hard against allowing _students_ here, no matter how brilliant you apparently are. Or how strong the expression of your ATA gene," he added, with a pointed scowl at Potter. "However, the SGC in its infinite wisdom, has decided that you belong here. So, congratulations. You're with Dr. Kusanagi. You get to explore a new level that we just opened up," he said with a smirk. "You better dig out your rubber boots. It's likely to be a bit… damp." He looked over at Miko. "Have Lorne send an escort up while the babies go get their rubbers." He glared at where the three of them still stood. "What, are you waiting for an engraved invitation? Go! Be back here in five minutes, or Kusanagi is leaving without you and you can help Kavanagh with cleaning the desalinization tanks."

He turned to Miko as they scrambled off to retrieve their boots and get back to the lab within the time limit. "Keep an eye on Potter," he said, voice low and quiet. "He's got that Sheppardesque quality, and I don't trust him not to let curiosity get the better of him." McKay debated over it for a moment. "I don't know. As much as I hate to be a nanny, maybe I should keep him in the lab."

Kusanagi tilted her head sideways. "We both reviewed his transcript, Doctor, and you know that his math is not strong enough to work with you," she replied. "His orientation assessment with Colonel Carter at the SGC showed he has an intuitive grasp of Ancient technology quite similar to that of Colonel Sheppard. You agreed that he would be best utilized working with me; his gene would be wasted in the lab."

"I hate it when you throw my words back in my face," he said, letting out a huff of annoyance. "He's got that trouble vibe, and I'm worried that something's going to go wrong and he's going to end up right in the middle of it." He shook his head. "He's the kid of some British bigwig, and it has been made clear what a terrible black eye it would be for the SGC if something happened to him." McKay rolled his eyes. "Why they decided to send these kids into a hot zone is beyond me. Just… I don't know. Tell the marines to keep an eye on him and sit on him if he shows the slightest inclination of going off book," he said sternly. "I'm not in the mood to deal with any injuries and the inevitable paperwork that follows them today."

"Yes, Dr. McKay," she said with a bow, giving him a small smile.  
  
  
  
Hal and Grace raced down the hallway, laughing and trying to catch their breath.

"Well, they did warn us that we were in for a rude awakening after our orientation week!" Hal panted as they ran.

"Oh my god, Hal!" Grace gasped out as she skidded to a halt in front of her quarters, swiping her hand over the control panel to open the door. "He's even worse than Colonel Carter said he'd be!" She dove into the room to change into her boots.

Hal grinned as he thought 'open' at the door right beside hers and watched it slide out of the way. Being able to control ancient technology with his _mind_ was never going to get old. He kicked his shoes off as he stumbled across the room to grab his boots from the closet. "No argument from me!" he yelled in agreement as he shoved his feet into them and stumbled back out the door to join her. The two of them ran back down the hallway, meeting up with Rob as they reached the transporter.

"McKay is the worst _ever_ , even more terrible than Yeager. Agree or disagree?" Grace asked Rob as they stepped in and Hal touched the controls to take them back.

Rob pulled a face. "He's a complete asshole," he said as the door opened. "But that seems about right for the _head scientist running the R &D program on a top secret alien base!_" he continued in a sing-song voice, accompanied by a significant told-you-so look as they spilled out into the corridor.

Hal rolled his eyes, chuckling at his friend's commentary. "You're just never going to let that go, are you?" 

"Secret. Alien. Base!" Rob reiterated, smugness radiating from every pore. He eyed the door they were approaching with distaste. "But yeah. He's absolutely the worst. Yeager's a picnic compared to this dickwad."

"Well, I suppose to be fair, he is concerned about keeping us alive," Grace allowed as they entered the lab.

They all came to an abrupt halt when they found Dr. Kusanagi and a couple of marines waiting for them. Hal winced involuntarily when McKay's glance at the three of them evolved into a glare specifically at him. He didn't know what he'd done to annoy him, but clearly Hal had somehow ended up on McKay's shit list without even trying. He smiled weakly at the man, but McKay just let out a snort and turned back to the group he had at the whiteboard. Hal turned his attention to Kusanagi.

"The engineers recently cleared sections 22 through 25 as structurally sound," she said, directing their attention to one of the Ancient displays. Schematics for the section appeared, showing where they currently were in relation to where they were going. "The city database has this section designated as research, and our preliminary investigation shows what appear to be labs and storage space," she continued, tapping the screen and twisting her hand, causing the image to zoom in and give several live feeds from several rooms down the corridor. "We are unlikely to find anything dangerous; we are focusing on section 22B which was a low security area. Biologicals and weapons are in a different section entirely." She looked at them sternly. "Do not let that lull you into a false sense of security," she warned, and once again, Hal felt that he was getting a particularly pointed stare. "Scientists more experienced than you have died here because they did not follow the safety protocols that the Honorable Dr. McKay has set out. Do not dishonour me by ignoring the rules and placing yourself among them."

"Wow, Doctor Downer," Rob muttered under his breath. Hal smothered a snort of amusement and elbowed his friend. "Shut up, Rob," he whispered through his teeth.

"No one is to enter unexplored and unsecured areas of the city without a military escort," Kusanagi continued. "Sergeants Hansen and Billick will be accompanying us. They have logged many trips off world and are both very aware of the potential dangers we could encounter. If they order you to stop, to go or to run, _do so without question_." She took a deep breath. "If you take the time to argue with them, it may be the last thing you ever do."

Grace looked a little queasy while Hal and Rob discreetly rolled their eyes. Suddenly, Kusanagi was smiling again. "Mr. Potter, you will be issued a Lantean scanner," she said walking over to the wall and pressing an indentation. A panel slid open revealing a row of what appeared to be scanners set into recharging stations of a sort. She grabbed two and handed one to Hal. "Mr. Fierro, Ms. Leung, you can please each take a tablet and a collection box." Kusanagi pointed to a shelf on which there were a stack of empty baskets next to several computer tablets. "In case we find any interesting artifacts we must collect and catalogue."

With that, she headed for the door. Rob scowled and punched Hal in the arm. "Of course you get the easy job," he complained, then headed to grab a basket just like Grace. Hal just laughed as the three of them headed after Dr. Kusanagi, with the marines bringing up the rear.


	7. Strange Attractors

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*

Draco made his way swiftly across the castle, anger and hurt driving him along. He'd trusted Pansy with his plan! He'd thought she would understand, not try to tear it apart. He ruthlessly suppressed the little voice telling him that her request that he think it through was not a betrayal. He'd been doing nothing but thinking it through for months. Thinking through what had happened, what could have happened. How he could have changed things – if only he'd not been such a coward.

Well, that's what he was here to do. Embrace his inner Gryffindor, if he could find it, and face his fears. Be brave. Take responsibility for what he'd done and try to make a change? How could there possibly be anything wrong with that?

He looked around and realized he was right in front of the wall where the entrance to the room of requirement had last appeared and he stuttered to a halt. He was gripped by the sudden, visceral memory of heat all around him; for a moment, all he could smell was smoke. His heart started pounding in his chest as he flashed back to that day, over a year ago, when the whole world had been engulfed in flames and he'd thought he was about to burn to death. He stumbled back and tripped, falling on his arse to stare up at the stone wall. He felt himself getting lightheaded and realized that he was panting and his vision was starting to go grey.

_This is ridiculous_ , he thought as he clambered to his knees. He clenched his fists, closed his eyes and focused on taking deep breaths, holding them for a moment and letting them out. It was the same thing he'd done to keep from panicking when the Dark Lord had summoned him at the Manor. _Breath in, breath out, be calm. You will NOT pass out,_ he told himself firmly. When he finally felt his heart beat settle down to something approaching normal, he looked back at the wall.

It was a wall, like any other. Large stones held together by mortar, innocuous and cool. No smoke, no fire. He could do this. He had to do this. It was the only place he could think of to find the mirror. If he required something, it was supposed to appear, right? Time to test it out.

He got to his feet and slowly walked up to the wall. After staring at it for another moment, he tentatively reached out a hand and touched it. He smiled and let out a sigh of relief. Cool to the touch, just stone like any other wall in the castle. He began to walk back and forth in front of the wall, murmuring under his breath.

"I need the magic mirror," he said as he paced. "The mirror that gives you what you most desire. I desperately need the mirror." He focused every ounce of his will into what he was saying, trailing his fingertips along the wall. "I need the mirror to change things, to make them different, make them better," he continued. "I need to see how things could have been, I need-"

He stuttered to a stop as a door slowly formed, swinging slowly open where he stood.

Taking a deep breath, he walked in and then faltered after a few steps. Gone were the piles of things that had been everywhere when last he'd entered. All he saw now amid the curved archways were two mirrors, on opposite side of the room. 

"One of these must be what I'm looking for," he said slowly, glancing back and forth between the two. "So the other is… what?" He frowned, annoyed that Pansy wasn't here to puzzle it out with him. He briefly considered going to find her and badger her into coming, but he was still too angry at her – and hurt, though he didn't want to admit it. He'd manage on his own. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to face the mirrors one at a time.

The first mirror was sort of old fashioned, with ornate decorative edges. As he drew closer, he saw words inscribed along the upper edge. "Erised stra… ehru oyt ube cafru oyt... on wohsi?" he read, sounding each word out slowly. Not French then and not Latin. "Certainly not English… this makes no sense," he muttered with a frown, scowling in the mirror. Unexpectedly, another figure began to coalesce in the mirror beside him and Draco whipped his head around to look, but he was alone. He glanced all around the room to be sure, but no one was there. When he looked back in the mirror, the figure still remained – a very familiar, wild haired boy, with his arm around Draco's shoulders.

"Potter," he breathed, heart skipping along double time at what he saw. The Draco in the mirror looked – happy. Relaxed. Joyful even. That Draco had his arm around Mirror!Potter's waist, comfortably, as if it belonged there. Potter whispered something in Mirror!Draco's ear, and he tossed his head back, laughing. Then Potter kissed Mirror!Draco on the cheek and he felt something inside him snap.

"What the _fuck_?" he hissed whirling away from the mirror, a wash of anger, longing and humiliation flooded through him. He didn't need a mirror to rub his nose in the pathetic fantasies he'd spent years trying to suppress. 

He stomped across the room toward the other mirror. "This one better have the answers I'm looking for," he muttered, but then slowed just shy of it, worried he might see more of the same. 

This mirror was quite a bit different from the other, roughly hewn as if it had been fashioned from a huge slice of a boulder. It was asymmetrical, and the surface had a strange glow to it. That seemed a little more promising. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and stepped forward to get a better look.

Once he was closer, his discovered it was not a mirror at all, but simply a shimmery silver-grey surface. Bitter disappointment welled up within him and he was about to turn away in defeat when a small, oblong item on the floor caught his eye. He crouched down and picked it up, then almost dropped it in surprise when it suddenly lit up with a bright blue glow. He heard a sound coming from the mirror and looked up to find that the silver-grey surface now displayed the empty room behind him, but he was not in the reflection at all.

"What on earth?" He glanced over at the first mirror and then back to the one in front of him. "One shows things that can never be, and the other shows – nothing?" He tightened his grip on the glowing object in his hand as he struggled to maintain his composure. It was like the bloody room was taunting him. He inadvertently slid his fingers across the glowing blue surface, the mirror rippled and he saw the scene change. Now it showed a room that was almost entirely dark, with boxes and stacks of things all around, almost like it had been before the fiendfyre. He glanced around behind him, but nothing had changed.

"How odd." He studied the mirror as this time he deliberately trailed a finger over the device in his hand, watching to see if it would change again, and it did. This time, bright sunlight seemed to fill whatever room was being reflected within the mirror. He grinned. This had to be it!

Draco pulled out his wand and thought furiously. Maybe it would show him things that could be? Maybe he had to keep at it until he saw something he wanted and then cast a spell to bring it into reality somehow? He'd figure it out, but he was so close, he could taste it.

He swiped his finger across it again and the scene changed once more, but this time it wasn't the room he was in being reflected. He could see a tall window of stained glass in the background, but more significantly, there was a young woman standing on the other side, looking back at him in shock. His grip tightened on his wand, but she didn't act threateningly, so he left it pointed at the floor and waited to see what would happen.

"Who are you?" she asked, and he cocked an eye in surprise. He hadn't expected the American accent.

"Draco Malfoy," he replied. After a beat, he raised an eyebrow and looked at her meaningfully. "It's only polite to return the courtesy," he pointed out.

"Oh! I'm Grace Leung," she replied. "How did you get in here?" she continued. "They only just opened this section."

Before he could reply, Draco heard another voice coming from outside his range of view.

"Grace, who are you talking to?"

Draco bristled. He'd know that voice anywhere.

"Potter!" he snarled. "Why do you have to ruin everything?" Draco raised his wand – not planning to cast, but at the ready in case he needed it – and as he did so, he grazed the surface of the mirror in front of him. Suddenly a flash of light traveled up his wand and over his arm to envelope his whole body.

"Bloody –"

He vanished.  
  
  
  
Harry made his way through Hogwarts, dumbfounded by what he'd just learned. He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say to Malfoy when he found him, but it was clear they needed to talk. 

He didn't want to feel bad for the ponce, but after Parkinson blurted out the whole convoluted story, he couldn't help it. Whatever rumour Malfoy had heard about the Mirror of Erised sounded like the same that that Quirell/Voldemort had believed – that somehow, the mirror had the power to give you what you wanted most. He was grateful that at least Malfoy wanted something good, but that almost made it harder. How was he going to make Malfoy believe him about the mirror? At least he'd had Dumbledore to explain it to him, and Harry had known he could trust the headmaster. Malfoy had no reason to believe Harry, and might even think that Harry was deliberately lying to him. 

Harry picked up the pace, arriving in the hallway a few minutes later. He stopped in front of the wall where the entrance had always appeared. "I need to see Malfoy," he muttered and then began to pace back and forth along the wall. After a few moments, nothing had happened and he frowned. Why wasn't the door appearing for him?

"I need to see Draco Malfoy," he repeated more firmly, resuming his pacing. "I need to talk to him," he added, looking at the wall. Still nothing. What in the world was wrong?

He'd had no problem getting into the room when the DA had needed it to practise, or when he'd been looking for the diadem. What was different now? He stopped and thought for a moment. It was a room you could only enter when you had real need of it. Maybe the castle didn't think he needed to get in there. Or maybe the real problem, said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Hermione, was that he didn't really want to go talk to Malfoy at all.

Harry placed a hand on the wall, then leaned forward rest his forehead on the stone and let out a weary sigh. The _last_ thing he wanted to do, after months of avoidance, was go in there are talk to the git. But, like usual, what he wanted didn't really matter. Someone had to tell Malfoy the truth about the mirror. It was a struggle, trying to let go of the righteous anger over the hurts and humiliations Malfoy had inflicted on him and his friends over the years. It was easier to forgive Malfoy for letting the Death Eaters into the school. He'd obviously had no choice in that, terrified Voldemort would kill him and his family. But the Dementor costumes, mocking Ron's family, calling Hermione a mudblood, _breaking his nose_ … well. There was a very childish part of Harry that didn't _want_ to forgive him for that, that wanted Malfoy to suffer as retribution for those things. Harry turned around to lean back against the wall and smack his head against it a couple of times, as if that would knock those feelings lose and make it easier to do what he needed to do. 

He sighed again, then stood up and started pacing once more. "I need… I need to sort things out with Malfoy," he said, nodding to himself. "I need to talk to him; I need to tell him the truth about the mirror. I need-" he stopped as a door formed in the wall and he gratefully pushed it open.

As the door closed behind him, he heard Malfoy talking to someone.

Harry looked around the room. The mirror of Erised stood off to the far left, but Malfoy was over in the far right corner of the room, standing in front of an entirely different mirror. Harry suddenly felt uneasy and he pulled out his wand, quietly moving in closer. He stopped short when he heard an unfamiliar woman's voice – _coming from the mirror_. Was that some kind of portal? Was Malfoy letting someone else in the castle?

Harry started moving again, careful to keep to the shadows and not make a sound as Malfoy introduced himself to whoever was on the other side of the mirror, and they did the same. He was almost close enough to see the mirror when a weirdly familiar voice caught his ear. 

"Potter!" Malfoy snarled, and for a moment Harry thought he'd been discovered, but no. Malfoy was addressing the voice coming through the mirror. "Why do you have to ruin everything?" Harry's eyes went wide as Malfoy was enveloped in a flash of white light and he vanished from sight. In the same moment, the mirror surface turned to a matte grey, with no sign of Malfoy or the people he had just been talking to.

Harry flicked his wand in a precise pattern. "Finite Incantatem!" He scanned the room, but there was no sign of Malfoy. He flicked again. "Homenum Revelio!" When there was still nothing, he tried once more. "Aparecium!" Except for Harry, the room remained empty and the mirror unchanged.

He debated for a moment, undecided. The war was over. He wasn't hunting a horcrux or on a mission for Dumbledore. Should he do what was expected, what any normal student would do and go to McGonagall with what he'd seen and let her handle it? 

He let out a snort and rolled his eyes as he headed for the door. He was going to talk to Hermione and Ron first to see if they could help him figure it out. If he went to McGonagall, he'd never find out what Malfoy had done. He'd never gone to the adults for help before trying to figure things out himself, and he wasn't about to start now.  
  
  
  
Harry found them in the library.

"Back from ferret-watch already?" Ron asked as Harry approached.

"He disappeared."

Ron gave him a surprised look. "Didn’t think he’d be able to give you the slip," he said with a shrug and looked back down at his textbook. "Guess you’re stuck doing your charms essay after all."

Harry slipped into a chair at the table opposite them. "No, really," he said, voice serious. "I mean he disappeared. I saw him vanish in the Room of Requirement."

Hermione stopped writing. "I’m not convinced that room is magically stable after the fiendfyre," she said with concern. "And really, I think you should let McGonagall know that you saw Malfoy go in there rather than chasing after him yourself. Though, honestly, he may just want to be alone for a bit after all he’s gone through this year-"

Harry let out a huff of exasperation. "Hermione, I don’t mean he disappeared into the room," he explained. "I mean I literally saw him vanish. From inside the room, right in front of my eyes." Both she and Ron stared at him.

"Come again?" Ron said slowly and Harry described in detail exactly what he had seen Malfoy do from the moment he entered the room until Malfoy vanished. When he was done, Ron scrunched up his nose. "That’s really weird, mate." 

Harry nodded. "You’re telling me," he agreed. "I ran over to the mirror, but when I got there, it was just gray. I cast every revealing spell I could think off, but nothing changed. I’ve got no idea what happened, but it can’t be good."

"Just figures Malfoy’s up to something," Ron said, frowning. "Knew that pointy git wouldn’t be able to keep out of trouble."

Hermione gave Ron and Harry each a hard stare. "Has it occurred to either of you that Malfoy might be the one in trouble here, and not they one causing it? Especially considering our conversation earlier, for just _one moment_ , could you possibly resist the assumption that _he_ must be doing something wrong? Maybe _he’s_ in danger."

They both looked slightly chagrined at her admonition. "So, then," she continued when she was satisfied her words had sunk in. "I think we should tell McGonagall what happened."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and then looked meaningfully at her. "Right," she said with a sigh. "Why would we ever go to the authorities with our concerns about a potentially dangerous magical artifact on the school premises when we could research it and try to figure it out for ourselves?" She glared at them both. "I’m giving this until lunch time, and if we haven’t figured it out by then, we’re going to McGonagall whether you like it out not. Malfoy really _could_ be in danger, or hurt, or even… " She swallowed.

Harry felt something inside him twist, cold and sick at the idea. "Agreed," he said. There had been enough death and pain for a lifetime. 

Hermione nodded. "I think I might know where to start," she said, closing the textbook in front of her and pushing it out of the way. "Harry, I need you to describe, in detail, exactly what that mirror looked like."


	8. Quantum Decoherence

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

Hal was in awe. The city was amazing. He walked down musty corridors, dutifully scanning room after room, cataloging every bit of ancient tech as he was directed. The fact that he was tromping through muck and dead plants and everything smelled sort of like a fish market on a warm day couldn't keep the smile off his face. He was on another planet, in another galaxy and the _city_ was _talking to him_.

He'd felt it when he first came through the gate, of course. All the gene carriers had been told about the connection they would feel, and gone through weeks of intensive training before they were allowed anywhere near Ancient tech. He'd had the chance to take apart a few broken items, and had managed to surprise a few of the 'experts' at the SGC when he was able to fix one they had sworn was irreparable. But when he'd arrived – he was connected to the city in a way that he'd never been connected to anything. It was like Atlantis had secrets to tell, you just had to _listen_ hard enough to hear what she was saying.

A nudge on the shoulder pulled him out of his reverie. "Keep your head in the game, Potter," said Sgt. Hansen as he scanned around them. Hal gave a sheepish smile.

Hansen nodded tersely. "It's easy to get distracted when she's whispering in your ear, but you gotta stay on point and save the gawking tourist bit for when you're off duty."

"Sorry," he muttered, tossing Grace a glare when she giggled. He was glad he was paying attention again because Dr. Kusanagi came to an abrupt halt and he barely managed to avoid walking into her.

"We will inspect these two labs and their connected storage rooms before we stop for the day," she said motioning for the marines to clear the labs before she allowed them to enter. "Mr. Potter, please scan all the recessed storage compartments before opening them. Mr. Fierro, Ms. Leung, please begin your initial assessment of any objects or tech in the lab across the hall." The marines came out and gave them the all clear. "You may proceed."

Hal pulled out the scanner and began near the door, following the procedure Dr. Kusanagi had laid out for him. Stay at least 10 feet back. Complete a cursory scan looking for any unstable energy signatures. There were none. Next, think _identify_ at the wall. He'd been skeptical at first, but damn if it didn't work. If there was any inactive tech in storage, an itemized inventory of what was in each compartment appeared on the scanner's small screen. 

"This section was cut off from the city mainframe after the shields collapsed back when the city was submerged," Dr. Kusanagi had explained earlier when he asked why they didn't just pull an inventory from the main computer. Hence the manual process of gathering the details of what was actually out in each of these labs. As much as it was menial busywork, he really couldn't complain, because - alien planet. Different galaxy. The grin came back as he continued to work.

He was done with the room more quickly than expected as it turned out only two storage areas were occupied. "What next?" he asked Kusanagi, who was up to her elbows in the crystals and clear panels, attempting to repair and replace damaged components.

She glanced at him before turning back to the damaged crystal she was working on, motioning him closer with a jerk of her chin. "Let me see."

He walked over and held the device in front of her so she could read, peering curiously into the wall to see what she was doing. He glanced up to find her smiling at him.

"I must not let the crystal go," she explained. "It is fractured, but I didn't see how badly till I began to pull it from the bracket. Now I must be careful to ease it out without letting in shatter or the entire panel will need to be replaced." He nodded in understanding and she gave him a pleased look. "I am happy to teach the eager student."

"It's all so amazing," he blurted out, unable to stop himself. "Learning about the Stargate, finding out I won some crazy genetic lottery, getting into the student program, actually coming to Atlantis where I can control things with my mind…" he trailed off, feeling a little foolish. "It's like magic," he said quietly, tone a little hushed. "I want to know everything," he finished with a shrug and a helpless smile.

"You have a hunger to understand and learn beyond the things you are told. This is good." She turned back to the wall to continue her work. "Upload what you have found to the database and have one of the others collect the items," she said, dismissing him as she began the painstaking task of teasing the crystal free.

Hal logged the artifacts into the system, then nodded at Sgt. Hansen as he walked across the hall and poked his head into the other lab. 

"Rob, you have room for a couple more gizmos in your basket?" he asked, spotting Rob trying to pry something off the lab bench. It didn't appear to be cooperating. "They're some kind of hand held tools, in compartments 4 and 5. Everything else is empty."

Rob gave up on the thing he'd been trying to work free and wiped his hands on his pants. "Yeah, sure do," he said, wedging his basket under one arm and made his way across the room. "There's nothing in here but broken doodads, dead crystals and mud." 

Hal glanced around the lab as Fierro slipped past him. "Where's Grace?" he asked.

Rob jerked a thumb behind him toward the door where Sgt. Billick was standing. "She said she saw a couple interesting looking things in that store room," he said as he crossed the corridor to the other lab.

Hal walked up to Billick. "Can I go in there?" he asked, waiting. No way was he stepping a toe out of line on his first day. Dr Kusanagi might have warmed up to him a little, but Dr. McKay had already made it clear he'd be happy to ship him home. Hal was going to obey every single rule and regulation to the tee, even if it made him die a little inside every time.

Billick tapped his earwig. "Doc, is Potter cleared for lab B16 store room?" He paused a second, then looked at Hal and nodded. "Doc says affirmative," he said. "Just remember-"

"Yeah, I know," Hal nodded, walking through the door. "Don't touch anything."

He stopped after just a couple of steps, marvelling. It was a hell of a room for just storage. One of the large, stained glass windows that were featured all over the city stretched nearly to the ceiling on the far side of the room. He turned slightly to find Grace in front of a large stone slab that was standing up against the wall.

Before he had a chance to approach them, he saw Grace visibly startle and then lean in closer to the object and start talking to it. "Who are you?"

Hal blinked, and looked back over his shoulder at Billick. The marine had suddenly snapped to attention, peering over at Grace.

"Is that some kind of communications device?" Hal asked, puzzled.

"Doesn't look like anything I recognize," Billick said, tapping his earwig. "Hansen, get over here," he said, eyes fixed on the happenings in the room. "Something's hinky."

Hal turned back and went to take another step, but Billick caught him by the shoulder. "Stop," he ordered. Hal did so, but Grace was still talking, and he was torn between following the order and going over to make sure his friend was ok, to hell with the consequences.

"Grace, who are you talking to?" he called out, frustrated that he couldn't get closer.

"Potter!" An angry sounding voice that Hal didn't recognize emerged from the stone slab. "Why do you have to ruin everything?"

Grace jerked back just as a white flash of light enveloped the artifact in front of her. A moment later, a young, blond man dressed in dark robes stood appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He had an arm outstretched, pointing a stick at them with one hand while clutching a small, glowing device in the other.

Billick darted forward, shoving Hal to the floor before getting between him and the blond man. "Leung! Back away!" he barked out, falling into battle stance, P90 aimed and ready to fire. The newcomer's head jerked over to look at him, but his lip curled into a sneer when he spotted Hal on the floor, partially behind the marine.

"I don't know what you've done or how," he growled out, pointing the stick at Hal, "but I'm not letting you ruin this for me!"

"You know this guy?" Billick asked, never taking his eyes off the intruder.

"He said his name was Draco," Grace called out, drawing the blond man's gaze. She paled under the ferocity of his glare, stumbling as she back away from him toward the exit.

"I've never seen him before in my life," Hal said loudly, trying to attract the man's attention back to him and off of his friend. He let out a breath of relief as Grace reached safety, the other marine appearing at the door to quickly usher her out of the room.

His comment served only to infuriate the blond man. "What?" Draco demanded. "Is this some kind of prank? I swear, Potter, I'm going to hex you so hard your grandchildren will be feeling it!"

Billick tapped his earwig to give a quick sitrep. "Command, we have a single intruder in B16 storage. He emerged from an unidentified artifact, potentially armed, definitely hostile." The sergeant raised his voice to address Draco. "Drop your weapon and lay down on the floor, hands behind your head. Do it now, or I'll shoot."

"Are you… threatening me?" Draco asked, incredulous.

"Last chance," Billick warned, and Hal swallowed. He could see Billick's finger tightening on the trigger. "On the floor or I will shoot you."

Draco's eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "Shoot me? What do you… wait, that's a muggle weapon!" he exclaimed, finally recognizing it for what it was. "That’s a gun!" he suddenly looked affronted. "You're threatening me with a _gun_?"

Hal watched as Draco flicked the stick at them and shouted something that sounded like Latin. Suddenly, Billick was flying across the room, directly at him. Draco gasped and dove out of the way just as the marine passed through the space where he'd been standing. A second later, Billick slammed into the wall, then hit the floor in a motionless heap.

"Intruder has attacked using weapon of unknown origin. Billick is down, condition unknown!" Hansen yelled into his mic as he dove forward to grab the back of Potter's jacket and begin to drag him bodily from the room. "Repeat, man down!"

"I didn't mean to!" Draco protested eyes wide as he stared at the man on floor. 

Hansen had just about hauled Hal through the door when he felt himself being wrenched free of the marine's grasp. "Oh, no you don't, Potter!" he heard Draco yell, and then he was the one flying through the air, only this time in a somewhat more controlled fashion. "I want an explanation!"

Hal twisted around as he floated helplessly across the room, and it appeared that Draco was controlling his speed and direction with the stick he held, waving it in the air like a conductor or a magician. _'Like a magic wand,'_ he thought, dazed. _'This can't be happening!'_

He caught movement below from the corner of his eye and he glanced down to realize that Hansen was taking aim. Draco noticed it at the same time and thrust his stick – wand, Hal's mind insisted – at the marine, letting Hal drop to the floor with a painful thud right in front of him.

"Protego!" A hail of bullets fell harmlessly several feet short of where Draco stood, stopped by a glowing barrier of energy that was emanating from the tip of the stick. Hal's breath caught in his throat – he'd have been hit by those bullets, too. More marines came pouring into the room, and while Hal could hear them yelling, demanding Draco surrender, asking Hal if he was ok, it all faded into this buzzing haze of background noise as Hal stared up at Draco. The other man's face had gone grey, as if realizing for the first time that the marines had meant business about shooting him. His outstretched arm trembled as he held kept the glowing shield between them and the marines solidly in place.

"Potter," Draco asked, voice quavering, "What's going on? What part of the castle are we in? What are these muggles doing here? And with guns?" He looked absolutely lost. "Are they trying to _kill_ me?"

Hal pushed himself into a sitting position, eyeing Draco warily. "Well, you did attack us first."

"You lot started it!" Draco said hotly, glaring at him. "It was just an expelliarmus to disarm him! How was I supposed to know he had the bloody thing tethered to his body?"

Hal shook his head in confusion. "I have no idea what that means," he said, glancing up at the stick Draco held aloft. "Is that…" He bit his lip, then couldn't help blurting the question out. "Are you trying to tell me that _that_ is a _magic wand_?"

Draco blinked. "Is there another kind?" he asked, his face twisting into a frown. "Potter, have you finally gone mental? And why are you talking with an American accent?"

"Uhm." Hal blinked at him, mind reeling from the implications. "That actually… might explain a few things…" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ok… your name's Draco, right?" 

Draco scowled at him. "Potter, we've been attending the same school, and at each other's throats for the last seven years," he said, anger evident in his tone. "I don't know what you think you're playing at-"

Hal cut him off. "Look! I don't know you!" he insisted, clambering to his feet. "I've haven't gone to school with you, I've never heard of muggles, and I don't know what castle you’re talking about." He narrowed his eyes, staring at the other man. "Where, exactly, is it that you think we are, anyway?"

Draco looked at him as if he were crazy. "At Hogwarts," he said slowly.

Hal's eye's widened. "Hogwarts?" he asked, stunned. "My parent have talked about that place," he said. He'd certainly heard plenty of crazy stories about it over the years from his folks and godfather. "That's some fancy boarding school in England, right?"

"Scotland," Draco said, starting to look worried. "Are you telling me we’re not there?" he demanded. "Where on Earth are we?"

"Well, see… that's sort of the issue," Hal prevaricated.

Draco was losing his patience. " _WHAT_ is?"

Hal shrugged helplessly. "We're not. On Earth, I mean."


	9. Entangled Particles

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

"You have a mission to Neunass scheduled next week," Weir said reading through the weekly summary Lorne had emailed them both earlier. "Dr. Parish has requested to accompany the next team who goes there." She glanced up at him. "Apparently, there’s a plant there that would be very beneficial to the Atlantis greenhouse. Any problem with him tagging along?"

"That guy is a little too excited about plants," Sheppard said, pulling a face. "Maybe I can kick the mission over to Lorne, and he can babysit his own scientist." He smiled. "Then I wouldn’t have to listen to McKay ranting about how botany’s not a real science for the whole trip."

She picked up her tea, cradling the cup with both hands. "You want to tell Rodney that you’re canceling his first away mission since the new crop of ‘baby scientists’ arrived, just because you don’t want to listen to him complain?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You’ll have to let me know how that goes over. That is, if the entire city doesn’t hear if from him first."

"Fine," he said, with a half-hearted glare. "We’ll take the mission. And Parish."

She laughed. "Great, I’ll let him know."

He gave her a shrug of acquiescence. "I know better than to deprive Rodney of a break after running McKay’s School for Extremely Gifted Gene Bearers for the last week." 

She smiled over her cup of tea. "You’re enjoying this," she accused, letting out a soft chuckled as he laced his fingers behind his head and looked at the ceiling.

"Not exactly enjoying," he denied as he lounged back in the chair. "More like…" he abruptly sat back up, dropped his hands in his lap and gave her a bit of a grin. "Ok, so I’m enjoying it a little," he admitted. "There’s nothing quite like McKay on a tear, and man, was he in top form this morning," John chuckled as he recalled Rodney ranting at length about the baby scientists and toddler students he’d been saddled with. He leaned back again, hiking one elbow over the back of his chair, his expression growing serious. "But amusing as it is to watch Rodney blow a gasket, I’m with him on this one." John shook his head. "I still don’t understand why you didn’t fight the IOA on sending those students. Atlantis may be the safest place to be in this galaxy, but we’re still in a war zone." He looked at her beseechingly. "Can you explain this to me? Cuz I just don’t follow the logic."

She blinked once and then cocked her head slightly to one side. "The IOA put forth a very cogent proposal for introducing a small group of promising students to life and learning in Atlantis. Having them learn here, under the tutelage of Dr. McKay’s team could save years in terms of unlearning and retraining. The IOA and SGC believe the benefits to be gained far outweigh any potential risks." She straightened and took another sip of tea, gazing at him calmly.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something just seemed… off. "And you, personally, think this is a good idea?" he pressed, looking for anything that might indicate she wasn’t as sanguine with this as she appeared.

She cocked her head to the side again. "I find no fault with the IOA’s logic and think the student exchange program has the potential to be very valuable."

John’s eyes narrowed. There was no doubt in his mind there was more going on that a simple student exchange. He had the unshakable conviction there was something she wasn’t telling him - you didn’t work with someone as closely as he and she had over the last few years without learning to read them. He trusted her implicitly, but this was rubbing him the wrong way.

Before he had a chance to reply, Lorne's voice was in his ear. "Colonel, we have a potential foothold situation in Section 22B."

Sheppard was on his feet and moving double time for the command centre before Lorne had finished speaking.

"Sgt, get 22B up on the screen now," he barked. A moment later, the screen flared to life with a grid of over 24 camera views, many of which were dark. "Why are half these feeds dead when we have a team down there?" he demanded.

"That's one of the _reasons_ we have a team down there," McKay said, and Sheppard glanced over his shoulder to see Rodney coming up the stairs. "Kusanagi's got the babies down there cataloguing and helping her fix sensors and video feeds." he continued, coming up to main console and unceremoniously shoving Sgt. Campbell out the way to take his place at the controls. "It seemed like something they could do that would actually be useful and keep them out of trouble at the same time." After a few seconds, McKay grimaced. "This is all you're getting for now. Miko hasn't finished swapping out all the damaged crystals yet."

Sheppard nodded. "Lorne, can you narrow it down?"

A few seconds later, Lorne replied. "B16 lab and storage. I've got a squad of marines in the lab; Billick is down, unknown injuries; two of the students are clear, but the intruder got Potter away from Hansen using some unknown tech. Hansen reported that the intruder spoke to Potter as if he knew him personally. Shots were fired, but there is some kind of energy shield in place that is impervious to our bullets."

"Oh, for – please tell me they didn't shoot the kid," McKay demanded as he adjusted the display to show the lab and the storage Lorne has indicated. "I just knew that Potter kid was going to find his way into trouble!" 

"Stuff it, McKay," Sheppard ordered as he studied the screen. The feed for the lab was dark, but the storage feed was working fine. He let out a sigh of relief seeing that Potter seemed none the worse for wear, then turned his attention to Billick. "Rodney, do we have sensors in there?"

McKay made a few more adjustments. "There we go," he said with satisfaction, and suddenly, a readout appeared at the bottom of the screen showing the life signs of the room's occupants. Billick's vitals were low but steady, and Sheppard revised his original intent to terminate with extreme prejudice down to causing extreme discomfort. Potter's vitals were high – racing heart rate and respiration, no surprise there – and interestingly, the intruder's were as well. According to these readings, he appeared to be human.

"John."

Sheppard twitched. "Elizabeth," he returned evenly, not looking at her, keeping all his focus on the screen. The intruder was holding something – it was hard to see through the interference from the energy shield around them, but it looked like a stick – and they appeared to be arguing, but he couldn't hear anything.

"Rodney, we need sound!"

"Working on it," came the reply. "That energy field is causing interference," McKay huffed in annoyance.

Sheppard tapped his earwig. "Lorne, get ready to deploy a couple of flashbangs," he ordered. It didn't look like Potter was in immediate danger, but maybe they could take advantage of the distraction he was providing. Hit quick, disorient, disarm and disable - 

"Let me talk to him, John."

Sheppard did not sigh. "Once he's neutralized and in a holding cell," he replied. "He's already proved to be dangerous."

She reached over Rodney's shoulder to tap a control and the view changed, this time from behind the two men. Sheppard heard McKay's quick intake of breath and glanced back at him.

"Do you know what that is?" Weir asked. He shook his head.

McKay answered. "That's a quantum mirror." He sat back in his chair and shook his head. "Well… fuck."

Sheppard glanced between the two of them, annoyed. "And that means?"

"I think our visitor might be here entirely by accident," she said. "He may even believe we're the aggressors attacking him. The first time the SGC encountered a Quantum mirror, Dr. Jackson went through it without realizing what he'd done. He thought he knew the people in the alternate universe, but they were different versions." She nodded at the screen "He seems to know Mr. Potter. What if that's the case here?"

Sheppard looked at Rodney for confirmation. "That's not unrealistic," McKay said, nodding slowly. "It's quite plausible, and actually would make the most sense." He groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. "What is it with the creators of incredibly advanced technology and their inability to leave a simple warning on their inventions?" he grumbled, the pulled his hand away. "Just a little note, that's all I ask. Like, "Touching this will kill you"! Or, "Touching that will send you to an alternate universe." A simple, "Ascension Device" label so we have some clue. Instead, we play Russian roulette with ancient devices. Honestly! I don't think it's too much to ask!"

Sheppard opened his mouth, but before he had the chance to say it, McKay cut him off. "Yeah, I know, shut up Rodney, and fix the sound," he grumbled as he started making adjustment to the controls. "It's not so much broken as… a lot of… interference… ok. This should work," he said, sounding satisfied as hit toggled something on, and there was a squeal of static. "We have audio."  
  
  
  
As Hal watched, a myriad of emotions flit across Draco's face. 

"What do you mean," Draco asked, each word precise and even, "we're not on Earth?" he glanced around briefly before returning his gaze to Hal. "Where are we?"

"Well, uhm…" Hal shrugged. "There's an official planetary designation, but everyone in Atlantis just calls it Lantea."

Draco took a moment to digest this. "Atlantis." Hal nodded.

"As in, the lost city of?" Draco pressed. Hal nodded again.

Draco gave him a skeptical look. "You're having me on."

The corner of Hal's mouth quirked up into the slightest of smiles. "No, I swear, it's the truth," he said, shaking his head. 

Draco's wand dipped slightly, his fierce grip relaxing a bit as he waved the hand clutching the artifact at Hal. "You are taking the piss," he accused. "Atlantis is a _myth_! Wizards have been trying to find it for _years_! And you mean to tell me that you, Harry Potter, defender and great hero to the Wizarding World, have managed to somehow find it, in between writing charms essays and barely eking through Potions?"

Hal stared at him, trying to parse the statement. "Potions?" he repeated faintly.

"Merlin only knows why Slughorn thinks you're such a prodigy-"

"Wait!" Hal cut him off. "I actually know that name," he said. "My mom mentioned him when I complained about my chem prof. Said he had a club… the slug club." He let out a huff of amusement. "I thought it was hilarious." He peered at Draco. "He's your teacher too?"

Draco's face took on a complicated expression. "Potter," he said, and his voice was unexpectedly quiet and gentle. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? No injuries? You didn't hit your head when you fell?" 

"No, I'm fine." His backside was sore from when he hit the floor, but that was it. "Why?" 

Draco took a steadying breath. "Your parents…" Hal raised an eyebrow as Draco reached out as if to touch him, but pulled his hand back at the last second. "Potter, your parents died when you were a baby. Your mother died protecting you from the Dark Lord."

The words hit him like a physical blow and Hal staggered back. For a moment, all he could see was flashing green light and his mother's terrified face from his childhood nightmares, and hear the hissing, sibilant whisper that haunted his dreams. "No," he said once he recovered his balance, shaking his head in denial. "No, my parents are just fine." Suddenly gripped in equal parts by fear and fury, he stalked right up to Draco so they stood nose to nose. "Why the fuck would you say that, huh?" he demanded, and brought both hands up to shove Draco backward as hard as he could. 

Draco stumbled and went down, and Hal went down after him. The wand and artifact both went flying, and after a few seconds, the energy fields that he been keeping the marines out of the room wavered and winked out. Hal didn't even notice. He was too busy trying to pin Draco to the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Potter?" Draco yelled, scrambling to get free of Hal's grasp, but as wiry as he was, Hal was stronger and in seconds, he was straddling Draco's waist, fingers wrapped around his wrists holding him in place. "Let go of me!" he demanded, thrashing about in an attempt to break free.

"Tell me why you said that!" Hal yelled back as he tightened his grip, laying his full weight on Draco. "I want to know _why_ , goddammit!" 

Suddenly there were hands wrapped around Hal's shoulders, hauling him up. He struggled against the hands restraining until a voice cut through his rage.

"Potter! Focus!" He looked up, finally seeing it was Hansen who had him in an iron grip. 

Hal forced himself to relax. Hansen studied him for a second, then grunted and let go. "Nice work disarming him, kid" he said. "Now, let us handle it from here."

Hal looked over to where two marines had Draco immobilized, his arms shackled behind him, and scowled. "I still want an answer," he called out, and tried to take a step towards Draco, but Hansen grabbed him again. "Or I swear to god, I will shoot you myself!"

Hansen tapped his comm. "Yes sir, roger that," he said, then grabbed Potter by the back of his jacket and hauled him toward the door. "Major Lorne says the Colonel and Dr. Weir want to speak to the intruder," he said as he unceremoniously dragged Hal from the room. "You'll have to save target practice for later."


	10. Probability Distribution

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

Draco paced back and forth in the cage he'd been shoved into, mind racing as he tried to make sense of his predicament. Somehow, Potter had used that wretched mirror to send him somewhere far from Hogwarts. Except, he was pretending not to know Draco at all, which made no sense. And all these muggles, armed and apparently intent on protecting Potter from him, as if the prat wasn't fully capable of defending himself. Draco stopped short and thought about that.

He'd been half expecting a duel, but at no point had Potter pulled his wand – either to break free of the Leviosa or to try to hex him when he got angry. No, instead he'd acted like he didn't even know what a wand was and then jumped on Draco, scuffling with him on the floor like a bloody muggle. 

He shook his head. As if things weren't bad enough, he was having trouble concentrating. Every time he tried to utilize his tried and true breathing exercise to calm himself and put his thoughts in order, Draco started to hear – something, just on the edge of his awareness. It was like someone was whispering to him, tantalizing secrets just out of reach that would be shared if he would just concentrate.

He focused on strengthening his occlumency shields and the voices faded to nothing, then resumed his pacing. He had to figure a way out of this cage, and out of this room, then get his wand back and find his way to the mirror. He let out a bitter laugh. Right, only that.

The door to the room slid open, and he rushed to the bars of the cage, glaring at the man and woman who had entered. "You have no right to keep me in here! Release me this instant!" he demanded.

"Oh, I don't think so, sparky," drawled out the dark haired man clad in black. He had a tight smile and his eyes were hard. "You put one of my men in the infirmary, and you attacked a civilian under my protection. I'm not inclined to let you out to play." 

"If you're talking about the person who was waving that, that _gun_ at me, well that was entirely in self-defence," he said stiffly. "And I didn't attack Potter. He's the one who jumped on me!"

Before the man could speak again, the woman with him touched his arm and gave him a quelling look. He pressed his lips into a tight line, but acquiesced. She turned to Draco and spoke. "My name is Dr. Weir, and I'm in charge of this expedition. This is Colonel Sheppard, our military commander. The women you spoke with in the lab said you told her your name was Draco Malfoy."

He nodded warily, and she continued. "Mr. Malfoy, please understand that we bear you no ill will, but it did appear to us that you were an intruder in our city, and your initial behaviour seemed to indicate that you had hostile intent." She held up a hand to quell his protests and continued. "I'm willing to concede that you may be an accidental visitor-" 

"Well, I certainly didn't come here on purpose!" he snapped, cutting her off.

"I believe you," she said, giving Sheppard a pointed look. He gave her a tight smile in return. "However, you must admit, you were acting in an aggressive manner once you arrived."

Draco grimaced. "I apologize," he managed through gritted teeth. "Potter just… surprised me. The git is everywhere I turn around."

"Mr. Malfoy, I realize you think you know Mr. Potter, but I assure you that's not the case."

He tilted his head back and frowned at her. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "Granted, he's speaking strangely, with an American accent of all things, and it's odd to seem him without glasses." Draco had a sudden flashback to the hex twisted face he'd denied recognizing in the manor. "Trust me, I'd know him anywhere."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you recognize his face," she agreed. "But this isn't the Hal Potter you know."

"Wait, what?" Draco interrupted. "Who is Hal? That was Harry Potter!"

"Actually, you are correct. While Harry is his legal name, he goes by Hal in this universe. I take it that person in your universe goes by Harry."

Draco shook his head in confusion. "What do you mean, in _this_ universe? I don't understand!"

"You've come through a Quantum mirror and into another reality. This is an entirely different universe than your own. There may be people here that you _recognize_ , but they're not the same people you think you know."

Draco blinked several times as he contemplated that statement. "That mirror, the one that kept showing all the different views, different rooms and such… they're all different… universes?" he asked haltingly, and Weir nodded.

He swallowed. "And this really _is_ the lost city of Atlantis?"

"How about you tell us where you're from?" Sheppard cut in. "And, what's your problem with the Potter back home? Also, what were you doing with a quantum mirror in the first place? And," he said as he reached into a leg pocket to pull out a familiar item. "I'd also like to know how you managed to throw my marine across the room. How exactly does this work?" He twirled it around in his fingers, examining it on all sides. "What is it powered by? Is it voice activated?"

"That's mine," Draco growled out, lurching forward. "Give it back!" He tried to reach out through the bars, only to yank his hand back with a hiss when he encountered a barrier that flared on contact.

Sheppard smirked. "Oh yeah, you probably shouldn’t try to touch the bars while the force field is active. Stings like a bitch."

"Colonel, please," Weir said, clearly annoyed with Sheppard, then turned back to Draco. "Mr. Potter told us that you said this was a magic wand." She looked at him questioningly. "And you're… a magician?"

Draco glared at them, cradling his stinging hand against his chest while dread curled in his belly. He didn't know what to do. He'd thought that, maybe, there were just muggle guards here and wizards were in charge. But if they were all muggles, he couldn't very well talk about magic with them no matter what universe he was in. This Potter may not be his Potter, but he had to be a wizard too – maybe he was just playing dumb because of the muggles.

"I want to talk to Potter."

Sheppard gave him a fake smile. "It's good to want things."

Draco tilted his head back and gave them his haughtiest sneer. "I've nothing more to say to you. I will talk to Potter, no one else."

Sheppard took a step towards the bars, his face suddenly cold and dangerous, and Draco took an unwilling step back. He well recognized the look of murderous intent in the other's man's eyes. "You won't be talking to anyone unless I say so," Sheppard said quietly, his hand clenching around Draco's wand. 

"A word please, Colonel?" Weir said in a tone that brooked no discussion, and reluctantly Sheppard nodded. They moved toward the door, turning away from him to have a terse discussion.

Draco blinked as the wand in Sheppard's hand caught his attention. Had it just – glowed? Yes, there it was again! The tip was a ruddy orange, as sometimes happened when a wizard was incanting a complex spell and holding back on the casting till the last moment. The greater the degree of power the witch or wizard possessed, the more likely the wand tip would glow, a visible manifestation of the potential magic about to be released. His eyes cut back up to Sheppard's face, the tension in his jaw as he argued with – and was clearly losing to – Weir. Was it possible the man was actually a wizard and not aware of it? There were wild tales of adult muggles suddenly coming into their power and going mad with it, but they were just ghost stories whispered between students in common room when the fire was down low. He'd never heard a confirmed story of a muggle-born coming into magical power this late in life.

The two of them turned back to him, Sheppard hanging back, crossing his arms and looking seriously put out as Weir approached the bars once more.

"The Colonel and I have agreed that you may speak with Mr. Potter," she said and Draco raised an eyebrow. If that was an agreement, he'd eat McGonagall's pointy hat. "Afterward, we'd appreciate if you would answer some of our questions." She gave him an apologetic look. "It appears that the quantum controller you used to get here was damaged when you dropped it, but Dr. McKay is confident he can repair it and get you home. In the meantime, I'd like to make sure you were unharmed during your altercation. Colonel Sheppard and I will escort you to the infirmary where our doctor can give you a quick check."

Sheppard stepped forward and tapped the small console that stood in front of the cage Draco was incarcerated in. The energy field abruptly winked out and an opening appeared. Draco cautiously inched a foot across the threshold, and when nothing happened, stepped through the opening. He hesitated as he watched Sheppard deliberately place a hand on the object strapped to his leg – another muggle weapon, Draco realized with a start – and casually slipped Draco's wand back into his leg pocket, staring at Draco the entire time. Draco could tell that Weir was none too pleased by this posturing, but he understood. Sheppard was making it clear that he was in control here and if Draco did anything he perceived as a danger, he would have no compunctions about putting him down, permanently if need be. 

He faced Sheppard squarely. "You have my word that I will cooperate as long as you and your people do not take any actions to harm me."

Sheppard made a disparaging noise, his expression clearly doubtful, and Draco bristled in response. "I am a Malfoy!" he said icily, chin thrust up in anger. "My word is my bond!"

Whatever Sheppard saw in Draco's face satisfied him, and his posture relaxed incrementally. He let his hand fall away from his weapon and gestured to the door. "Right this way, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
  
  
Draco was in awe. 

As they walked, he realized the voices he'd heard early were actually _Atlantis_. It wasn't like Hogwarts – the castle was magical, but not self-aware. There seemed to be a consciousness here, involved with and completely cognizant of everything happening within her. When he concentrated, he could sense her. When he dropped his occlumency shields, it felt like she was equally aware of him. 

As they walked down one of the corridors, he felt inexplicably drawn toward one of the doors. He found that he slowed his steps as they approached it, finally stopping as they were about to pass by to Sheppard's obvious annoyance.

"Is something wrong?" Weir asked, a concerned look on her face.

"No." Draco shook his head, confused. "I don't know. I just…" He looked around in puzzlement, but his eyes came to rest on the door. Without understanding why, he took a step closer to it. "I thought I… heard something," he said, taking another step, then hesitantly reaching out to touch the panel set in the wall beside it.

"Don't touch that!" Sheppard snapped, darting forward to stop him, but Draco's fingers had already grazed the panel. 

The door whooshed open and Draco jumped back with a startled noise. "What is _that_?" he asked, wide eyed. Behind the door was a large room where several people were moving industriously to and fro. At the center of it all, set up on a brightly lit dais, was some sort of throne. It was grey, almost organic looking, with dully glowing blue panels at the head of it, and he had absolutely no idea why he was just _itching_ to sit in it

"Classified," Sheppard replied as he interposed his body between Draco and the chair. The door abruptly whooshed shut and the baffling urge faded to almost nothing.

Sheppard and Weir traded a significant look and then Weir turned to him.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'd like to test something if you don’t mind. Could I get you to hold something for a moment?" Weir asked. He nodded cautiously. She didn't seem to have any intent to harm him, and he was very curious.

Wordlessly, Sheppard pulled a small, rectangular device from yet another pocket of his uniform and offered it to him. Draco studied it for a moment; the small, grey box looked innocuous enough, so he took it. He was startled to feel a low level wave of energy from it, like he often felt from magical artifacts or books. Draco looked up at Sheppard. "Now what?"

"It's a scanner," Sheppard explained, is if that was supposed to clarify what Draco was supposed to do. Draco cocked an eyebrow at him, and Sheppard's mouth curled up in the faintest hint of a smile.

"Try thinking about how many people are around us," Sheppard suggested. The moment the though crossed Draco's mind, the device lit up, showing a grid with glowing, blue dots all over it. He realized the cluster of three lights in the middle was Sheppard, Weir and him, and three more to the left were the ones in the chair room. There were several others scattered about within the grid, as well as a scrolling message at the bottom of the display in ancient runes with details about 'life form status' and 'threat level' and a few other things he didn't understand.

"Well, that's definitive," Sheppard muttered as he took the device back.

"That message there," Draco said, pointing at the runes below the grid. "Threat level nominal. Is that little box able to tell you if the people around you are a danger?"

Sheppard frowned and peered at the runes for a moment before giving Draco an unreadable look. "You can understand this?"

Draco lifted his chin, giving a little huff of indignation. "Of course I can understand that," he said, mildly offended. "I _am_ taking my NEWT levels in ancient runes." He noted the concerned look exchanged between Weir and Sheppard, but between the whispers of the city in his head and the buzz from handling the scanner, he couldn't bring himself to care.

As they continued on their way, Weir attempted to engage him in conversation. He did try to hold an intelligent dialogue with her but he was constantly distracted. He hadn't been able to put his shields back up and kept hearing voices right on the periphery of his thoughts. In addition, the city was visually stunning with exquisite stained glass insets and the glimpses of elegant buildings outside through far off windows. Now she simply walked beside him, an indulgent smile on her face. Even Sheppard seemed to be casually at ease, but Draco wasn't deceived – there was alertness in his carriage that belayed his easygoing manner. 

Still, despite the bizarre circumstances he found himself in, he could not keep from staring in open-mouthed wonder as they climbed a set of stairs to reach a landing that looked out over a vast city surrounded by water. Before he realized what he was doing, he'd stepped out on to the balcony, right up to the edge of the railing, gawking all around like a firstie upon their arrival at Hogwarts. Jewel toned windows reflected back brilliant sunlight, and gleaming spires of smooth metal and glass rose gracefully into an intensely blue sky. His eye followed them up, and his breath caught in his throat, heart hammering double time. He might have fallen had he not braced himself against the railing with both hands, suddenly weak in the knees and utterly overwhelmed at the sight.

Sheppard was immediately at his side, a hand on Draco's shoulder to steady him. Draco finally dragged his gaze from the sky to find Sheppard's eyes and then glanced over at Weir.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"Potter was telling me the truth, wasn't he," he managed, voice hoarse as he looked back at Sheppard. It was a statement, not a question.

The Colonel nodded. "Yeah. He was."

Draco swallowed and turned away from the astounding view of a hauntingly beautiful city and the two, utterly alien moons visible in the sky above it.


	11. Statistical Interference

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

"Honestly, I'm fine!" Hal protested as Dr. Beckett took his blood pressure. He'd been poked, prodded and scanned within an inch of his life, all because that blond menace from the mirror had made him float through the air for a few seconds. He was entirely ready to find Rob and Grace get some lunch and so he could talk with them about this crazy morning, but it didn’t seem like that would be happening anytime in the near future.

"How about you let me be the judge of that, laddie," the doctor replied as he pulled off the cuff and stowed it away. 

Hal rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh, but Beckett gave him a stern look. "I do think you're probably just fine, son, but the Pegasus galaxy has taught us well not to take any chances. You'll have to forgive me if I'd rather make you late for dinner than miss something and have you mutate into a bug."

Hal started to laugh but trailed off at the doctor's expression. "A… bug," he asked weakly.

"Aye," Beckett said firmly. "So I'll thank you to be leaving the diagnosing to me if you don't mind,"

Hal swallowed, suddenly much less anxious to run off. "You're kidding, right?"

"Carson?" A voice came from behind him, and Hal looked over his shoulder to see Dr Weir entering the room.

"Be with you in a tick, Elizabeth," Beckett replied, jotting something down on the tablet he held.

"Mr. Potter, is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," he answered, then amended the statement. "I think I'm fine, but Dr. Beckett is making sure I don't turn into a bug."

Weir pursed her lips, expression somewhere between a smile and a frown. "Instilling the fear of god into the newest expedition members I see."

Beckett glanced over at her. "Just a healthy respect for the dangers they face," her replied, unrepentant.

"Well, I can't fault you for that," she said with a chuckle. 

Hal leaned toward her, eyes widening. "Do you mean he's really not joking about the bug thing?" 

"Afraid not," she said and Hal swallowed. Clearly there were a lot of things that had not been covered in the Atlantis for Dummies 101 crash course he'd received before stepping through the gate.

Weir continued. "Carson, when you're done here, could you please examine our visitor? The Colonel has him in the intake wing and Nurse Ko is taking his vitals."

"Certainly," Beckett replied as he turned to Hal. "Right then. You're free to go, but let me know immediately if you have any unusual symptoms or pain in your back or legs." He nodded to the two of them and went to file Hal's chart before heading over to intake.

Hal went to slip off the bed, but Weir held up a hand, motioning him to stop.

"Mr. Potter, our visitor has asked to speak with you again," she said. "Would you have any objections to doing so?"

Hal scowled. "He owes me an explanation," he said, then tilted his head to one side, studying her. "I thought he was an intruder, not a visitor." 

She nodded. "I understand your confusion. I know Quantum mirrors were not covered in your orientation, but the SGC has had a number of contacts from alternate timelines over the years. Mr. Malfoy says he's here by accident, and I'm inclined to believe him." Her mouth quirked up into a smile. "He indicated that he'd prefer to speak with you, but I wanted to ask you first. And get your promise not to hit him again."

"I didn't hit him," Hal said, crossing his arms and glaring at her. "I might have… shoved him a little," he admitted, looking away, uncomfortably. "Look, this whole thing is very weird," he complained, throwing his hands out beseechingly. "Some guy just walks through a mirror and starts talking to me like he knows me, and if that wasn't strange enough, he starts talking about magic and potions and then says my parents are dead?" He found himself getting angry all over again. "Can you blame me?"

She gave him a look that reminded him a lot of his mother when she thought he was being unreasonable. Hal suddenly resented her equanimity and wished that she was at least a little bit flustered. He wasn't used to feeling so completely off balance.

"I didn't say you had no cause to be upset," she replied, her calm even tone making him feel by turns both annoyed and chastised. "I'm simply asking that you refrain from striking him." She paused for a moment, considering. "He does seem to know you – or, the Harry Potter in his reality – fairly well, especially if they've been schoolmates for years. It’s a very real possibility that the Harry from his universe did lose his parents as a child."

Hal closed his eyes, shuddering at the thought. He had years of childhood nightmares, bathed in flashes of green that revolved around that very thing. He took a deep breath before opening them again. "So… I shouldn't take it personally. Since it's not really me he's talking about."

"Exactly."

He let out a sigh and hopped of the bed. "Ok," he agreed. "Let's go talk to him then."

And then everything went to shit.  
  
  
  
"Bloody _Hell_!" The voice bellowing across the room startled Draco. The white robed healer advanced on him, clearly furious. "Where did _he_ come from?"

"Dr. Beckett." Nurse Ko gave the healer a puzzled look as she slid an evacuated tube into the tube holder already inserted into a vein in Draco's arm. Draco felt queasy as he watched it fill with blood. "I've begun a standard blood draw for a basic panel-" 

A split second later, Draco realized that man had a _wand in his hand_ and had already begun to cast. Before Beckett could complete the wand movement, Draco wrenched his arm free from the nurse, hissing as the needle was yanked out, and rolled to the floor in one fell swoop. 

"Incarcerous!"

Draco narrowly avoided the bindings that shot out towards him from the end of the wand, but Nurse Ko wasn't so lucky. She toppled to the floor with a dry, the magical rope winding around her. 

Sheppard dropped into a defensive crouch, drew his sidearm and aimed it at Draco, but his attention was on Beckett.

"Carson, what the hell is going on?" Sheppard demanded, eyes shifting between the now magically bound nurse, Beckett and the wand in his hand. 

"You can't let him near Potter, Colonel," he said moving in closer so the bed was no longer obstructing his view of Draco. "He's here to kill him." He flicked the wand again. "Stupefy!"

Draco dodged to the left, slipping behind the small trolley cart full of medical supplies. The radius of the spell caught his foot, leaving it tingling with pins and needles as if it had fallen asleep. "I'm not!" he protested from behind the cart. 

"Hey now, hold on a minute, buddy," Sheppard said, taking a step between Beckett and Draco, blocking his line of sight. As Draco watched, Sheppard holstered his gun, holding his hand up to placate the other man. "If he wanted Potter dead, he had every opportunity to kill him when he had him trapped in the lab this morning."

"Why would he want to kill me?" 

Draco looked over to see Potter and Weir standing at the entrance Beckett had come through.

"Elizabeth, get Potter out of here," Beckett ordered. "You've got to believe me when I say his life is in danger, and in fact, the fate of the earth may very well hang in the balance." Beckett's face was pale, and he took a deep breath. "Colonel Sheppard… John," he said, standing tall as if steeling himself to do something. "I need you to move out of the way. You're a military man. You understand that, in war, sometimes a tactical strike is necessary."

Draco suddenly had a terrible feeling he knew exactly what Beckett was planning. "No, nonono! I swear, you have this all wrong!" he babbled out. He was caught in a nightmare.

Sheppard didn't move. "Carson, come on now, how about you put the…" He hesitated over the word. "Put the _wand_ down, and let's talk about this, okay?"

Draco extended a hand toward Sheppard and put all the will he had behind the incantation, and prayed to Merlin that it would work. "Accio wand!" To his immense relief, his wand flew out of Sheppard's pant leg pocket and into his hand.

Beckett saw the wand fly and leaped forward, casting over Sheppard's shoulder, even as the other man grappled with him. "Avada- "

"Expelliarmus!" Draco shouted at the same time, sending Beckett's wand sailed across the room. Draco scrambled to his feet. "Accio Beckett's wand!" he yelled, and the doctor's wand came flying at him. His hands were trembling so much he barely caught it. "You were going to _kill_ me! With an Unforgivable!" Draco's voice was trembling, thin and high. "And you're supposed to be on the side of the light?"

"I'll not let you harm him, Death Eater!" Beckett yelled, still struggling with Sheppard. "You'll have to kill me first!"

"Beckett!" Sheppard barked, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a shake, then looked back at where Draco was standing, shaking with fear. "What in the _hell _is going on here?"__

__"Nothing you'll understand!"_ _

__"Well _explain_ it to me then!"_ _

__"It won't _mean_ anything to you, John!" Beckett said, glaring at Draco. "He's a _Death Eater _. He works for Voldemort and he's here to kill Potter."___ _

____" _Former_ Death Eater, I swear!" Draco protested. "And what are you talking about? The Dark Lord is dead! Potter killed him over six months ago!"_ _ _ _

____Beckett glared at him. "I don't know what you think you're playing at. Voldemort is still alive, and James Potter hasn't left the United States for over a year. What you say is impossible!"_ _ _ _

____"Who is Salazar's name is that?" Draco shook his head and pointed over to where Hal still stood frozen in the doorway with Weir. "I meant him!"_ _ _ _

____ _ _

______ _ _

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*

"This is it, I'm sure of it!"

Hermione set down the massive book and flipped through till she found the page she was looking for. "Here we are." She pointed at an illustration halfway down the page. "Is this what you saw?"

"Yeah," Harry said after studying the image for a moment. He looked up at her. "What is it?"

"It says that it's an ancient portal to… other planes?" Hermione peered at the tiny, ancient runes on the page. "No, other worlds. I think. I'm pretty sure this means planet."

"What does that mean?" he asked, unsure. "Malfoy is on another world? Like literally on another planet?"

"Good riddance if he is," Ron piped up, and Harry covered a smile as Hermione slapped Ron's arm. "Ow!" he complained.

Hermione gave them both an exasperated look and went back to reading, fingers trailing along the pages as she moved down the page. "There are multiple possibilities. This says it could be a different world, an actual different planet, but it also can transport the viewer to another plane… to different realities. Worlds like ours, but where things might have happened differently."

Harry's eyebrows went up. "You mean like an alternate universe?"

"A what, now?" Ron asked as Hermione nodded. 

"As best I can tell, yes."

"That's completely barmy," he said. "Like a science fiction movie or something." Harry shook his head. "So, what's going to happen? Does he just suddenly reappear?" He narrowed his eyes, thinking back on what Parkinson had said. Malfoy wanted to change the way things were. "Hermione, he can't actually change anything, right? Like go back in time and change the past or anything like that?"

She shook her head. "No, this only shows the seeker another view of how things are, or how they could be." She read a little further, then stopped and looked up, her face troubled. "Harry, did you see small object near the mirror? Looks like there is a controller for it – might have looked a bit like a muggle hand-held game."

Harry shook his head. "I didn't, but I wasn't really looking for anything either, so maybe it's there and I missed it."

She pursed her lips. "Hopefully Malfoy had it when he went through. If he didn't, he may not be able to find his way back." She flipped the page. "There's a caution here. This is very advanced magic - it looks a lot more like muggle science to be honest, but I do recognize some of the arithmantic equations here that describe how the artifact works, so it could be a little of both. The point is, wizards who didn’t know what they were doing have been trapped in these other worlds before." 

"Well, there's no way to know unless I go back and check, is there?" Harry said, standing up. "Are you coming?"

Ron shrugged, and slapped his textbook closed. "It's sure to be more fun that writing 18 inches on advanced transfiguration," he said as he shoved his books and papers in his bag. 

Beside him, Hermione gave a huff of exasperation. "I suppose someone needs to come along and keep you two out of trouble," she said. She glanced around furtively, then whispered and incantation over the reference book about the mirror. It wobbled a bit, then there was a pop and it shrank down to a fraction of its size. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't normally take restricted books out of the library," she said, defensively. "But we might need it for reference when we're there, and it would be very inconvenient to have to come all the way back just to look something up."

He just smiled and headed for the door. Ron and Hermione fell in beside him, the three of them united to face whatever may come as they had during every throughout their years at Hogwarts. Only this time, they were off to try and save Malfoy. They really were living in a different world now.


	12. Proof of Impossibility

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

Sheppard reached up to tap his earwig, but Beckett grabbed his wrist. "Don't," he warned, shaking his head.

"Carson," he began warningly, preparing to throw off Beckett's grasp. John didn't want to hurt his friend, but if he didn't get an explanation, and right now, he would have no qualms about putting Carson on the floor.

Beckett let him go. "Dinna call anyone else," he insisted. "It's bad enough I've broken the statute of secrecy in front of all of you. The more people who know, the more difficult this will be to clean up." 

"Carson, you need to tell us what's going on," Weir said, stepping into the room and walking toward Beckett. "And how you did that." She looked over at where Nurse Ko still laid on the floor, bound in ropes. "And what this all has to do with Mr. Potter and _our visitor_." She pointedly stressed the last few words. 

Beckett looked back at Draco, still backed against the wall, wand clutched in a trembling hand.

"You're Lucius Malfoy's boy," Beckett said, trying to step around Sheppard. "And you admit you're a Death Eater."

The Colonel blocked the move. "Yeah, Carson, I don't think the two of you should get any closer."

"I _was_ a Death Eater," Draco repeated. "Not anymore." The look of disgust on Beckett's face spurred him on. "The Dark Lord forced me to take the mark when father was in Azkaban," he said, defensively. "I didn’t have a choice! He would have killed me and my mother if I'd refused!"

Beckett frowned. "The Lucius Malfoy in this universe has never been in Azkaban." He studied Draco for a moment before continuing. "Every instinct I have tells me not to trust you, but the Colonel is right – if you really were here to kill Harry, you easily could have done so earlier." 

Draco nodded frantically. "I have no interest in killing him, honestly!"

"Fine," Beckett said, holding his hand out. "Prove it."

Draco looked at him suspiciously. "You want me to just hand your wand back?"

Beckett shook his head. "I want you to surrender yours as well."

"After you just tried to AK me?" Draco let out a huff of disbelief. "You must think me mad to agree to that!"

Beckett scowled at him. "I swear, as long as you make no attempt to hurt anyone here, I'll nae harm you."

Draco was about to protest again when Sheppard spoke up. "So, it seems to me that wands really would be classified as weapons."

"I suppose as a muggle, you might see it that way." Draco frowned. "Wands are far more than that, but obviously can be used for defensive and offensive spells."

Sheppard nodded. "In the city, only on-duty military personnel are permitted to carry weapons. Civilians are only issued weapons when they're going offworld. Normally, you have to turn any weapons in to the quartermaster for the duration of your stay." He shrugged. "City policy. But, due to… security concerns, I could hold on to it for you." Sheppard casually held a hand out, as if it didn't matter to him one way or another if Draco gave him the wand.

Draco really had no choice. It was either trust them to keep their word or fight them, try to find his way back to the mirror and hope he could figure out how to get home. And he'd seen there were a lot of people here, and he'd probably have to hurt some of them, or even kill some of them to get away. And still, no guarantee he'd find his way back. He swallowed nervously, glancing between Sheppard and Beckett and then haltingly, extended his wand. Sheppard reached out to tug it from his reluctant fingers, and slipped it back into his pant leg pocket with a nod.

"And, just so you know," Sheppard added, glancing at Beckett and then back to Draco, "I can vouch that Carson is a man of his word." He took a step to the side, leaving Draco and Beckett facing each other.

With a terror he had not felt since he'd walked across the courtyard at Hogwarts, Draco offered Beckett's wand back to him in open hand, earning a look of surprise from the healer. The moment Beckett took it, Draco jerked his hand back and turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing in expectation of a curse that never landed. 

After a few seconds, he cracked one eyelid to see Beckett looking at him, a little affronted and a lot resigned. "Well, I guess I canna blame you for that reaction," he said. 

Sheppard cleared his throat and looked meaningfully at Beckett. "You're a civilian too, Carson," he pointed out.

"Not… exactly," Beckett replied, eyes still on Draco. "Though I supposed you might call those of us affiliated with the Order a paramilitary organization at best. In any case, I need to do a few things before I can give this to you."

Draco had begun to relax, and flinched back when Beckett made another quick wand movement and uttered a spell. "Finite Incantatum!"

The ropes wrapped around Nurse Ko suddenly dissolved. "Dr. Beckett, what's happening?" she asked, eyes darting fearfully between Beckett and Draco as the doctor walked over and helped her to her feet.

"There now lass, everything will be fine," Beckett said, urging her to sit on the edge of the bed. He surreptitiously lifted his wand and cast again. "Obliviate," he said quietly and her face went blank.

"Carson, what are you doing?" Weir demanded.

"Only what must be done, Elizabeth," he replied, his focus on the nurse as he stealthily tucked his wand out of sight. "Now then, Marie. You were feeling a little off and you suddenly got light headed and collapsed." 

The nurse blinked a couple times. "I… Dr. Beckett…" She looked around, confused. "What happened?"

"Marie, lass, how are you feeling now?"

"I… rather woozy," she said, shaking her head. "Everything started spinning and then went black. Did I pass out?"

"Aye," he nodded as he took her pulse. "Your heart rate is a wee bit elevated, but I don't think it's anything serious." He gave her hand a pat and let it go. "There was a virus going around, it might be that. Now, I want you to go on back to your quarters and have a rest. I'll call Dr. Biro to cover the rest of the day." He shook his head when she started to protest. "Go on with ye, Marie, if you're feeling better, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, doctor," she replied as she got off the bed. She nodded at Sheppard and Weir, and then left the room.

Once she was clear, Beckett turned to Weir. "Aye, we do need to discuss this, but somewhere private where we won't be interrupted or overheard." He looked over at Sheppard. "Colonel, I need you to classify all the footage in the infirmary from the last few minutes as eyes only, highest clearance. There's too much to erase without raising suspicions."

Sheppard frowned. "If I do that, Rodney's going to going to notice," he pointed out. "And then he's going to come around and start asking questions about why."

Beckett grimaced. "And it'll do no good to oblivate him," he said, shaking his head. "He'll just notice the discrepancies and ask even more questions, and then get Radek involved as well." 

Sheppard shrugged. It was exactly what Rodney would do. "So… obliviate? You just wiped her memory? With a magic spell and the flick of a wand?" He gave Beckett the side-eye. "You ever done that to anyone here? To any of us on the command staff?"

Beckett looked away, and Weir's abrupt intake of breath betrayed her shock. 

"Carson, why?" she asked, sounding hurt.

He shook his head. "First things first," he said in a no nonsense tone. "John, get the infirmary recordings classified. Elizabeth, please escort Mr. Potter to the conference room down the hall from the operating theater. We can talk there. John can take Mr. Malfoy. I need to call Lindsey in to cover the rest of the afternoon." He let out a heavy sigh. "And I'll call Rodney to join us."

Sheppard looked over the Weir. "Well," he said with forced cheer. "This should be fun."  
  
  
  
Draco listened with increasing fascination to the argument taking place. He'd known most muggles didn't believe in magic, and that was just the way the wizarding world liked it. But this man, this _scientist_ , continued to strenuously deny it, even when presented with hard evidence. 

"There is no such thing as _magic_ , Carson!" The man was fuming. If it was physically possible for someone to combust from sheer annoyance, Draco was sure McKay would have burst into flames on the spot.

"Just because you don't understand doesn't mean it's not real!" Beckett shot back. "The way Wizards utilize magical energy is different and distinct from ATA positives access and use ancient tech. I've been researching this for years, Rodney. I know what I'm talking about."

McKay rolled his eyes. "I bet the brain scans of your so-called wizards show neural activity comparable to ATA users when they interface with tech like the jumper or the chair. Or, I don't know, maybe even what happens after getting zapped by an ascension device?"

Beckett's nostrils flared. "There are similarities, yes-" 

McKay cut him off. "Then it's the ATA gene, Carson. It has to be."

"Don't presume to lecture me about what is what until you have a doctorate in genetics!" Beckett's eye's flashed dangerously. "The scans clearly show different pathways are triggered when using magic. It's like… comparing a Naquadah generator to a ZPM. They both provide power, but the way they do it is different."

"Oh, don't even _try_ using scientific analogies!" McKay gave him a mulish glare. "You know I was always kidding when I called you a witch doctor, right?"

"Carson, you have to admit that it all seems a bit…" Weir hesitated, looking for the right word. "Well, fantastic." 

"It _seems_ fantastic because it _is_ , Elizabeth," McKay scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Oh ye daft bugger!" Draco noticed that the Colonel tensed as Beckett pulled out his wand, but made no move to intervene as the doctor cast several simple spells. Seeing the room light up with a lumos maxima, a coffee cup float through the air and then subsequently explode seemed to shake McKay's equanimity somewhat, but he still explained it away.

"It's just science I can't yet explain, Carson!" he insisted. "Magic is a fairy tale. I might not understand how you're doing these things with your so-called magic wand, but I guarantee you that all of them can be quantified and explained." He went off ranting about ancient technology, mind powers and ascended beings, but as far as Draco could tell, everything he was describing sounded like magic – wandless, barely controlled and frighteningly unpredictable magic, all in the hands of untrained muggles who had no appreciation for the dangers that it posed. It was more than terrifying – it was the nightmare of every pureblood elitist. 

"Just let me run some tests and get measurements! There is no such thing as magic any more than there are fairies or gnomes or werewolves." 

"Well, actually," Draco began, but quickly shut up when Beckett glared at him. He rolled his eyes and slouched back into his seat, his gaze flicking over quickly to check out how Potter was taking it. Not so well, it appeared. Honestly, Potter looked a little sick. 

"Dr. Beckett, I still don't understand what any of this has to do with me," Potter interrupted, earning an affronted look from McKay, but he ignored it and soldiered on. "You’re saying that magic is real, and there's some kind of magic war going on back on earth, and there's a crazy wizard who wants to kill me. But _why_ is he after _me_?" 

Draco's eyes widened as Potter grew more strident, almost shouting by the end.

Beckett stared at him for a moment then sighed. "Laddie, these things – it's not my place to tell you, but none of it makes any sense if I don't. I can only hope your father won't hex me into the middle of next week." He shook his head. "There's a prophecy-" 

McKay cut Beckett off. "Of course there's a _prophecy_!" he scoffed loudly. "That came to you in a _crystal ball_ , right?"

Beckett took a deep breath. "Actually, it came to a seer in a vision, if you must know-"

"Oooh, a _seer_ , that makes all the difference-"

"Rodney, that's enough!" Weir snapped, making her displeasure known. McKay glared at her mutinously but kept his mouth shut.

Beckett glared at McKay for a moment then turned back to Potter. "All I can tell you is the prophecy says you have a special power to defeat Voldemort. He tried to kill you and your family when you were a baby, but somehow, you all survived." Beckett pointed to his forehead. "Under your fringe you have a scar."

Potter frowned at Beckett. "Well, yeah." He raised his hand to his forehead, pushing his hair to the side, and Draco squinted. There was the faintest hint of a mark starting at his hairline, mostly visible by how it bisected his eyebrow. 

"You know how I got this." He glanced around the table as he explained. "My family was in a terrible car accident when I was a toddler. My dad still has a slight limp from it. I had quite a large scar, but it really bothered my mom, so I had surgery to fix it as soon as I was old enough." He rubbed at the scar absently. "The neurologists said my migraines and seizures are related to the accident. I used to get horrific nightmares, but they've had me on some new wonder drug for the last year and I rarely get them now." He grimaced. "I still get the migraines, though. That's why I always carry this." Harry pulled out a little case and snapped it open in front of them to reveal an auto-injector and a dose of medication.

"But you haven’t had any migraines since you got to Atlantis, have you?" Beckett asked.

Hal blinked as he considered that. "Huh," he said as he slowly shook his. "I've been so busy I hadn't really been paying attention, but you're right. I haven't needed a dose of my Imitrex since I arrived," he said, surprised now that he thought about it. "It's been _months_ since I went more than a couple of days without a migraine and we've been here almost three weeks. And no bad dreams, either."

"Aye, I'm no surprised." Beckett nodded. "There was no car accident. That scar was from the night Voldemort tried to kill you. You were grazed by a curse. He left you with that mark." He looked at Hal intently. "Not only that, Voldemort seems to have inadvertently created a psychic connection to you through it. Some of those things that seemed like they were nightmares weren't always dreams. Sometimes you were getting visions from him, hearing and seeing things as he was doing them." 

Potter frowned. "I used to have this reoccurring nightmare that my mom and dad both died. I had it a lot when I was little; I remember screaming for my mom, and she would rush into my room…" He gave a wry chuckle. "I learned to stop waking her when it happened. She was always so distraught and it upset me even more that the dream. That one doesn’t happen so much anymore. These days, the nightmares are more often like something out of a horror movie." He stared down at the table in front of him, fingers clenching into fists as he continued to speak. "There's a creepy zombie with red eyes who tortures people for fun. He laughs as they scream. And he makes them scream and scream, and they bleed and their bodies twist and break and tear apart, with blood everywhere... sometimes, there are flashes of green light and the people just drop dead." Potter shuddered. "Sometimes there's a huge snake and it…it eats them." Potter looked up and gave Beckett a hard stare. "And you're trying to tell me the things I see in my nightmares are _real_? My parents are still alive!"

Draco winced. It certainly sounded like Potter was having visions of the Dark Lord and Nagini as he tortured muggles at the Manor. And if he still had repeated dreams of losing his parents as a child, it was no wonder Potter had been so upset when Draco told him they were dead.

"Aye," Beckett nodded again. "The dream about your parents, that's a normal kind of nightmare. Thank goodness Auror Black showed up when he did." 

Potter blinked in surprise. "Auror… do you mean Sirius Black? My godfather was there?"

"It took him and your mother together to fight off Voldemort. The healers who revived you said they somehow merged their magic while trying to shield you, but you were still hit by a curse that stopped your heart. No one really understands how you survived." Beckett's face twisted with sorrow. "Unfortunately, the attack damaged your magical core, which is why you've never been able to do magic."

Draco gasped, his head reeling. Potter was a squib? Judging by Potter's stunned look, the fact he should have been able to do magic was news to him, which certainly explained lot. His mind was still spinning from that bit of news as Beckett continued.

"Whatever they did caused the curse to backfire on Voldemort. He was horribly injured and in hiding for a very long time, but in the last few years he's been building up his power and gathering Death Eaters around him." He paused, studying Hal carefully before continuing. "We've a spy inside who said Voldemort recently discovered his connection to you, and for the last few months had been gleaning impressions from you despite all the efforts the Order made to hide you from him. He was finally able to narrow your location down to Colorado. The Death Eaters had been preparing for an attack when his sense of you completely vanished – at the exactly moment you stepped through the Stargate." 

Beckett turned his gaze on Draco. "Which brings us to you, Mr. Malfoy."


	13. Intersection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay - I blame school and work.

James Potter pulled up to the Cheyenne Mountain security checkpoint and schooled his expression into bland politeness. "Afternoon, Corporal." 

Corporal Eric Simmons took his ID and gave it a quick but thorough scan. "Afternoon, sir," he said, handing it back to James. "Colonel O'Neill left instructions to tell you, uhm-" The corporal paused, looking a little sheepish.

He tilted his head to one side. "Let me guess." James consciously tramped down his irritation. It wasn't Simmons fault that James couldn't apparate directly to O'Neill's office after all, so he didn't want to bite the poor man's head off. "I am to haul my British arse in ASAP and stop holding up the show, or some such nonsense?"

Simmons chuckled. "That about sums it up, sir."

Potter tucked his ID back in his pocket. "Well, I'd best not keep the Colonel waiting then."

 

 

Twenty minutes later, James walked into the briefing room, and stopped short at the door. O'Neill sat waiting for him, but he had not expected to find Jackson and Carter there as well. The Colonel cocked an eyebrow and gestured magnanimously to one of the empty chairs. "Potter. Nice of you to finally join us. Since you're the one who called this emergency meeting and all."

James took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he entered the room. "My apologies for the delay, Colonel, and the rather vague communications. There were – extenuating circumstances." He stopped beside the table without sitting down. "However, I do believe I was quite clear that it was of the utmost urgency we speak privately."

Carter exchanged glances with Jackson. "Mr. Potter, is this in any way related to the reason we've sent your son and his friends to Atlantis?"

His lips were compressed into a hard line as he glared at O'Neill before replying. "I am not at liberty to discuss the matter with you, Major. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask your and Dr. Jackson-" 

"Yeah, about that," O'Neill cut him off as he leaned back in his chair, fingers laced together over his stomach. "Carter and Jackson here have some information I think you might be interested in. Oh, and Potter?" O'Neill's eyes narrowed. "No peeking."

James nodded, annoyed with the tacit warning against the use of Occlumency. Normally, the mere thought of invading another person's mind without explicit consent was abhorrent to him. However, since Voldemort had started actively hunting his son, things had not been normal, and James had found it much more expedient to simply look for the information he needed rather than painstakingly attempt to work around the statute with vague questions. He'd gotten really good at wandless Occlumency in the last year, and could usually dive in and find what he was looking for with what muggles might call laser-like precision. It did, unfortunately, usually result in leaving them disoriented, and sometimes with a migraine, but it saved a lot of time. And for right now, he was choosing not to think on what it said about him.

Carter turned curious eyes on O'Neill before glancing back at Jackson. He shrugged, as mystified by O'Neill's cryptic comment as she was. She brought her attention back to the folder in front of her, opening it as she looked up.

"In the days immediately after your son and his companions were transferred to Atlantis, our analysts noted an unprecedented spike in terrorist activity centered primarily in Britain. Even now, weeks later, it hasn't abated." She paused, studying him for a moment. "We only actively track these types of events when they are directly related to illegally acquired and disseminated alien technology or suspected alien incursion. Reports gathered from those attacks raised an internal flag as they hit some of the earmarks for suspected alien activity. A number of the victims described events that were –unusual to say the least."

James kept his face neutral. "Such as?" 

"Magic," Jackson offered, expression curious and perplexed by turns. "Quite literally, that seems to be the common theme. Descriptions of, how did they put it…" He pushed his glasses from where they had slid down his nose, leaned forward and took one of the papers from Carter's file. "Yes, right here." Jackson locked eyes with James as he recited what was on the paper. "This one said there were witches and wizards yelling Abra Cadabra and green light was coming out of their wands." He glanced back down at the sheet. "There was a report of a man turning into a wolf and ripping people to shreds, and another of people dressed up in black robes like wizards, throwing balls of electricity and lightning." He put the sheet down and crossed his arms, leaning forward to set his elbows on the table. "At first, we thought it might be Goa'uld related. Some of their tech could easily be mistaken for magical, and a lot of them favour an esoteric style with flowing robes. But that doesn't hold with Goa'uld MO of claiming godhood."

Carter picked up the story smoothly. "It was when we tried to follow up on some of the reports that alarm bells really started going off. Many of the witnesses vanished. They've either gone completely off the grid or, more worryingly, been abducted or murdered by whoever did this. We can't find any trace of them. Of the people we located, most had no recollection of the events detailed in the reports. We discovered that local Police reports were altered, and the ones sent to Interpol were entirely removed from their database. A lot of the damages to homes and property have been mysteriously repaired in days, and victims even had entirely new explanations for injured and dead family members. There were very few whose memories had not been altered. The ones who did remember were extremely fearful of talking to us and behaved oddly."

James's stomach was knotting up as she spoke. "Oddly how?" he asked, face betraying nothing.

"The victims who retained their memories spoke and dressed strangely. That's not a flag of anything wrong, but it is a notable commonality. In addition to that, they were all generally unfamiliar with everyday technology. Not understanding what the audio and video recording equipment was, or cell phones, that sort of thing." 

"What really caught my attention," Jackson jumped back in, "were multiple references to Merlin. In one recording, the person interviewed was muttering in a mix of languages I deciphered as Latin and Ancient." He glanced at Carter who nodded encouragingly. "We realized from the outset that the student exchange program to Atlantis had to be a cover story. It made a lot more sense that you were hiding your son off world because he was targeted by an organization aware of Ancient tech and your connection to the Stargate Program. Given the terrorist activity started to escalate when your son went offworld, we concluded that these might be reprisal attacks with the purpose of pressuring you into giving up information on Ancient technology and weapons." Jackson paused a moment and frowned. "The only thing that didn't add up was that the trace energy signatures found at the attack sites are inconsistent with Lantean tech." He gave James a beseeching look. "I've been doing research on Merlin and Morgan La Fey and references to magic in Earth culture and there are some unidentified artifacts with similar readings that even ATA positives have not been able to activate and–"

"Daniel."

Jackson's face took on a long-suffering expression. "Jack."

"So." O'Neill clapped his hands together and rubbed them together. "What do you want to do, Potter? I can send my people out of here so we can talk privately, but that seems like a real waste of resources. Because they are _really smart_ , and figuring things out is what they do. Why not get them on board and let them help?"

James gave him a flat look. "This isn't like the situation with Seth. There was no choice then when one of our people was under the influence of Nish'ta and at risk of being taken as host by a Goa'uld. You're suggesting I wilfully break the statute."

"I appreciate the predicament you're in, believe me. But here's the thing." O'Neill leaned in as if to share a fact in confidence. "I don't care. They're _going_ to figure this out. They turn everything upside down and inside out till they manage to put all the pieces together for themselves. And when they do?" O'Neill smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're not obliviating my people again, Potter. Try it and I'll shoot you." 

James watched Carter turn to Jackson, mouthing the word 'obliviating?' He shrugged, turning his hands up, mouthing 'I got nothing' back at her. When he looked back at O'Neill, James realized that where Harry's safety was concerned, there really wasn't any other decision he would make. But the smug expression the O'Neill's face made James want to hex him.

"Very well." He took a deep breath and let it out evenly. "Things would be much easier with the help of your team. But first, if I may secure the room from recording devices?" He drew his wand from his arm holster, held it up and waited.

Carter did a double take. "Is that… that looks like a…"

"…a magic wand," Jackson finished for her just as O'Neill nodded at James.

James made several concise wand movements, murmuring as he cast. The briefing room door and window blinds slammed closed and locked into place, and the ever present low buzz of electronics cut off, leaving the room silent. With another swish, they were blanketed with an _absence_ of sound, as if they had suddenly been dropped into an acoustically neutral space. James finished up with one tiny flick in O'Neill's direction.

"Oi!" O'Neill leapt from his chair, rubbing his backside as if stung. "What the hell?"

James's lip curled with a hint of a smile as he tucked his wand away. "Just a tiny stinging hex. I thought a small, practical demonstration might be helpful."

"It's not too late for me to shoot you, ya know." O'Neill grumbled, gingerly settling back down into his chair.

"Yes, it is." James pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table and sank into it, all traces of humour evaporating. 

Jackson studied him intently. "I heard the Latin words for secure, silence and – Ancient I think, for interference? Or disruption? I wasn't sure about that one." His eyes bright with curiosity. "All while waving your magic wand, so – spells?"

Carter looked at James askance. "It's some kind of voice activated Ancient tech?" She glanced over at Daniel for confirmation, but he was shaking his head.

"I don't think so, Sam. I think this is the real deal."

"But…" Her face screwed up in confusion clearly struggling with the idea. "But, _magic_?"

Daniel shrugged. "Look at what the Nox can do. Is it really so different?"

She let out a heavy sigh, head falling forward as she rubbed her forehead. "Ok. Magic." She looked back at James. "What does any of this have to do with your son?" 

James alternated his gaze between Carter and Jackson. "There is a terrorist organization, of sorts," he began slowly, choosing his words with care. "Their leader seeks to rule the wizarding world and subjugate the muggle one – yours," he elaborated at their blank look. "You are right about the reprisals. He believes that Harry is all that stands between him and ultimate power. He started attacking the families and friends of those actively fighting him as a terror tactic, but it's escalated into madness. Now, both wizards and muggles are being attacked with impunity - no one is safe. He's not after the Stargate or any Ancient technology. What he wants is to murder my son and take over the world."

Jackson made a face. "Sounds charming." 

"Think Stalin or Hitler. Pick any mass murdering, racist dictator you like." James shifted his gaze to Carter. "Now, add the ability to do magic, remove any trace of sanity and make him unkillable. That's who we're dealing with."

Carter blinked, licked her lips and looked over at O'Neill. "Sir?" Her voice was plaintive.

O'Neill nodded wearily. "Carter, this guy makes me miss replicators. Kinsey looks like Mr. Rogers by comparison."

"That's – really not good, sir."

"Nope."

"Unfortunately, there's more bad news." James turned back to O'Neill. "This is what I came to discuss with you. He's preparing to mobilize."

O'Neill's head snapped up sharply, but before he could speak, James held up a hand. "Let me be succinct. The Order believes that _he_ will come here; it's just a matter of time. Our home is under a Fidelius Charm, but that doesn't make us invulnerable." James grimaced. "They know what Harry looks like. If the Death Eaters start bringing muggles to Voldemort for questioning, he will eventually find enough clues to lead him to the Mountain. _He_ is a master Legilimens and torturer – not even a wizard can stand up to him for long. Muggles would be utterly powerless."

Carter was all business. "What can we do to help?"

"I need your assistance reinforcing the wards I've been layering here. It's a challenge to cast such complicated spells alone and even more so when attempting to be secretive about it. If you could come up with some plausible excuse to suspend your recording equipment section by section, I could strengthen the wards in each section while your monitoring devices are offline."

"Wards?" Jackson was intrigued.

O'Neill narrowed his eyes. "You've been doing what now to my mountain? Without permission?" 

James drew his wand again, twirling it through the tips fingers like a drumstick. "What exactly did you think I was doing during all those meetings when you called me a 'wannabe Van Halen'?" Just as quickly he sheathed it again. "You have plenty of gates, guns and soldiers, O'Neill. But guns won't protect you from a crucio or an imperio. Your gates and blast doors won't last long against repeated reducto maximas and all it would take to kill every last person in this mountain is for some enterprising Death Eater to conjure fiendfyre. There is no muggle counteragent to neutralize it."

"Well, _that's_ a cheery thought," O'Neill shot back. He glared at James for a second longer, then rolled his eyes. "Fine. Not going to say no to extra protection keeping my people alive. Carter, help him do what he needs to do."

She nodded. "I'll announce that we're running a security system diagnostic, floor by floor." She frowned. "I can stretch it out a bit, but it really shouldn’t take more than a few minutes for each level. How long do you need?"

"Longer would be better, but I can manage with ten minutes on each level."

"I'll make it happen."

 

Just over five hours later, James collapsed into bed in one of the SGC guest quarters. He was dangerously close to magical depletion, but with the potential danger, the wards couldn't wait. Thank Godric he'd been working on them over the years so there had been a solid foundation to build on.

He'd called Lily to let her know he was too knackered to come home. If hadn't truly been so exhausted he'd have splinched himself, he'd have apparated home the moment he heard her voice, O'Neill's rules be damned. She'd claimed everything was fine, but he knew that tremor in her voice when she was upset. Despite his worry, sleep overtook him, his last thoughts of Lily as he drifted into an uneasy slumber.


	14. Fractionation

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

Gruelling was the only word for it. It was every bit as arduous as dinner at Malfoy Manor with the Dark Lord – only with less fear of death and torture and far more shame and guilt. Dr. Beckett interrogated him relentlessly, dragging out all the events he'd just begun to put to rest. When the others asked questions for more clarification, Beckett filled in all the horrific details about the attacks on muggles, the torture and murder of those opposing Voldemort's Pureblood vision, and Draco was filled with a fresh sense of shame for having been a party to it. Except for the timeline, many things had happened here almost exactly the same as they had in Draco's word. It was like being on trial all over again, only this time, he didn't even have Potter to speak for him.

There were some shocking differences however. "That's not true!" He protested the allegation he'd murdered the muggle studies teacher. "The Dark Lord did that! He-" Draco faltered for a moment, then continued more quietly than before. "He put her on display in front of us, mocking her terror, and then he killed her and..." His voice cracked and he turned away from the table, fighting back tears. "Then he set Nagini on her," he whispered after he was able to speak again. 

Beckett stared at him dispassionately. "That's not how it happened here," he said. "Our inside source reported that Voldemort ordered you to torture and kill Miss Burbage."

He blanched, shaking his head. "No, I didn't! I swear I didn't! I was sitting right there, and she begged Professor Snape to help her, but he didn't. No one could! She didn't deserve that, it was absolutely horrible, and I didn't lift a finger to stop it, but _I_ did not kill her!"

He was breathing hard and his vision was starting to grey when realized he was on the verge of a panic attack like he'd had in Madam Consano's office. Weir gently touched his arm and he jerked away.

"I think we could all do with a break," she said, looking around at everyone. "I'll have the mess send up some sandwiches and coffee." 

He looked at the floor, mortified by his momentary weakness. Despite the embarrassment, he couldn't keep from sneaking a glance at Potter. Draco was startled to find Potter staring right at him and even more surprised when Potter got up and made his way around the table toward him. Beckett reached out and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Hal," he said with a quick glance and Draco, "I dinna think it's wise for ye to… spend any more time with Mr. Malfoy than necessary."

Draco's face heated at the comment and he thought that would be the end of it. Then Potter gave Beckett a defiant look that Draco was very well familiar with, having been the recipient of more than a few of those glares over the years. It seemed that, though this was a different version, it was still Harry Potter, complete with stubborn, Gryffindor tendencies.

"I think I'll be the judge of who it's necessary for me to spend my time with, thanks," he shot back as he shrugged free. His face was determined and he pulled out a chair beside Draco and sat down.

Draco took a deep, shaky breath, drawing a sharp look from Potter. "Are you ok?" he asked, and Draco was surprised to hear genuine concern in his tone. It was the same way the Harry he knew talked to Weasly and Granger and he suddenly had the most intense pang of homesickness. Draco had to close his eye and clench his jaw to keep from making a sound.

"Drink this." Beckett's voice was suddenly right there beside him, making him start, eyes flying open to stare up at the man. For the first time since he'd laid eyes on him, Beckett had lost the cold edge of fury and was looking at Draco the way a Healer would look at a patient. He held out a glass of water. "Deep breaths, and hold them for a moment before letting them go. I'll go make us both a proper cuppa as I think ye might not care so much fer coffee?" 

"Yes, thank you," Draco replied gratefully. Before he could reach out, Potter took the water set it on the table beside him. Beckett raised an eyebrow before shaking his head and walking away.

Draco reached for the glass, able to keep his hands mostly steady so that only the slightest tremor was detectable as he lifted the cup to his mouth. He hadn't even realized how intensely thirsty he was and he down the entire thing.

"Deep breath now," Potter reminded him, tilting his head forward to give him a no-nonsense look. Draco glared back, but without any real heat, and followed the instruction. After a few breaths, he did feel calmer.

Potter slouched back in the chair beside him. "So, before all the excitement started, Dr. Weir told me that you were from another universe." He shook his head and let out a wry laugh. "I'm in another galaxy, by way of a gate powered by a wormhole, but I'm having trouble grasping the idea that there's another me out there." He turned in his seat, reorienting himself to face Draco. He hesitated for a moment before going on. "It sounds like what you went through was pretty terrible."

Draco swallowed. "Yeah, it was," he allowed, staring at the cup in his hands.

"You said you and I…I mean, you and him... went to school together for years."

"Yes," Draco said, fidgeting with the glass nervously. "We're in school together this year. With the war, seventh year was rather a write off, so a lot of us are back repeating it to get our N.E.W.T.s."

Potter looked at him quizzically. "Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests," Draco explained and Potter laughed.

"That's the best name for final exams I've ever heard," Potter said, smiling. Draco found himself smiling back without meaning to.

"Tell me about it," Potter asked, and Draco cocked his head to one side.

"About the war?" he asked, confused. They'd just been talking about that for the last innumerable hours and he really needed the promised break. 

Potter shook his head. "No," he said, eyes intent. "About the school, and your NEWTs and…" he hesitated for a second, then plunged forward. "Tell me what it's like to do magic," he asked breathlessly.

It really hit Draco then, like a bludger to the head. "You... you _really_ don't have any magic at all," he said quietly, shaking his head. "You didn't know. That you were supposed to be a wizard."

Potter's mouth tightened slightly and Draco realized that intent look was _hunger_. This Potter had never cast a Lumos or a Stupefy. He'd never cast a Sectumsempra. "No," he said finally, managing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "And believe me, I'll be asking my parents a few questions about that when I see them next, but for right now…" He licked his lips and leaned forward, eagerness apparent. "Tell me."

So Draco did.  
  
  
  
"Potions sounds an awful lot like chemistry," Potter said doubtfully.

Draco waved a celery stick at him. "So?"

Potter rolled his eyes. "I hate chemistry. And I'm pretty sure my professor can't stand me." 

Draco thought about it and then chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Potter demanded as he reached past Draco to grab a sandwich from one of the trays that had been brought in.

"Sounds like you've got something in common there," Draco said, and cocked an eyebrow. "Our old potions professor couldn't stand my Potter, and I know Potter is pants at potions." 

"Pants?" He asked as he took a huge bite. "What's that mean?"

Draco grimaced. "Merlin, Potter, that's disgusting! Swallow before you talk!"  
  
  
  
"And you play it, flying on brooms?"

Draco nodded, munching on another sandwich.

Potter stared at him while he shined an apple against his sleeve. "And you have to chase after a, what did you call it, a snitch?" he asked and then took a bite.

Draco swallowed, shook his head. "No, you and I… I mean, my Potter… we're both seekers, not chasers."

Potter tilted his head to one side, and tried to talk around a mouthful of apple. "But I thought you had to chase-"

"Seriously, Potter!" Draco cut him off. "Don't talk with your mouth full! Your half masticated food is revolting!"  
  
  
  
"But what does it _feel_ like?"

"I don't really know how to explain it." Draco shook his head helplessly. "If you can feel it, you know, but if you can't…"

Potter looked miserable, and Draco couldn’t help but envision what it would be like trying to live without his magic, the knowledge it was there, the feel of it building up in him when he was incanting, moving through him as he cast. As he fumbled for a way to describe it that might make sense, he felt the whisper of the city in the back of his mind, a sign he was letting his occlumency shields slip. 

"It's sort of like this place!" he blurted out, and Potter's gazed snapped to him. "The way you can hear it and feel it."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "You can hear her?" Hs mouth screwed up in a wry expression touched with a hint of bitterness. "So you can do magic _and_ you have a really powerful expression of the gene."

Draco frowned. "The gene?" He remembered the annoying muggle scientist talking about the ATA gene earlier, but he still didn't really understand what it meant.

Potter glanced over at where McKay, Sheppard and Weir were sitting in a tight group and talking. "I guess they never talked to you about it, huh?"

When Draco shook his head, Potter explained. "You need to have the gene or the tech here doesn't work for you. If it's really strong in you, you can hear the city in your head. Not everyone does." He looked a little wistful. "My friends don't have it, so they can't operate the tech." He dropped his voice a little. "Or hear her."

Draco nodded. "Since I've been here, I've noticed voices when I'm distracted. There was a room we walked past, and I felt as though things were calling out to me, powerful artifacts waiting to be used, if only I would just touch them." Potter was nodding in understanding and Draco smiled. "Magic isn't _exactly_ like that – it's more a kind of awareness of this power that you have access to, within you all the time. With the right wand and the right spells, you can access it and make use of it whenever you need to. It's… beautiful. Comforting." 

"It was so strange," Potter confided, "stepping through the gate. It almost felt like coming home, like a part of me that I never knew was missing was suddenly… complete." He made a face. "And then we all got the lecture on how we should never touch anything because we're all idiots and likely to kill ourselves and everyone around us since we don't know what we're doing." 

Draco let out a wry laugh. "Magic has a lot of similarities," he said. "It's why you go to Hogwarts. You need training to use magic safely and effectively." He thought back to sixth year, and slowly bleeding out on the cold bathroom floor. "You could easily kill someone if you don't know what you're doing."  
  
  
  
"And you and I…I mean you and him... we're… you're not friends."

"No," Draco said, fidgeting with his teacup nervously. "But he helped me anyway," he said, finally glancing up at the other man. "He testified for my mother and me both. We'd be in Azkaban with my father if he hadn't." He looked away. "I'm still not quite sure why."

Potter studied him and shook his head. "Well, if he's anything like me at all, I'm betting he realized that you were stuck between a rock and hard place and didn't have much choice." He topped up his coffee from the carafe in from of him, then settled back in his chair with it.

Draco cut him a sideways look. "Scylla and charybdis."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Mr. Classical education," he retorted with a hint of a smile. "Point being, it sounds like you made some wicked awful choices, but the alternatives were death, torture and the murder of your family. What else could you do?"

Draco carefully placed the cup on the table. "You heard what Dr. Beckett said. A lot of that happened where I'm from as well, even if not exactly the same way." He folded his hands together in his lap. "How can you just… forgive that?" He took a deep breath. "He may have spoken for me, but he certainly hasn't forgiven anything."

Potter was silent for long enough that Draco had to glance over to find him gazing pensively into his coffee. 

"Well," Potter said after a long moment. "I didn't have to live through any of it. I'm guessing it’s a lot harder for him to see past all the baggage between the two of you." He frowned. "You still have to take responsibility for your actions and face the consequences, but from what you said, it sounds like you're really trying to." Potter looked at him then. "What else can you really do?" 

Draco looked away. What else indeed.


	15. Enthalpy

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

Sheppard took a sip of his coffee and grimaced at the cold mouthful. He pulled his gaze away from Potter and Malfoy at the other end of the table and glanced around to locate the coffee urn – in front of McKay, which was no big surprise.

He snatched it up and refilled his cup, then turned his attention to Weir.

"So, I'm trying to piece this together," he said, studying her intently. "I thought something was off about this little 'student exchange' thing, it just didn't add up."

McKay looked between the two of them. "Didn't add up? Are you kidding? It was the most ridiculous idea the IOA has ever proposed!"

Sheppard nodded, his eyes still on Weir. "It still doesn't sit right with me. You honestly didn't know? No expedition leader 'eyes only' clearance?" he asked, trying to figure it out. "I don't understand why you would have approved of this cockamamie idea otherwise."

"Absolutely not, John," Weir insisted. She blinked once and then cocked her head slightly to one side. "The IOA put forth a very cogent proposal for introducing a small group of promising students to life and learning in Atlantis. Having them learn here-"

"She's under a Geas," Draco said, interrupting the spiel before Weir could finish it. He glanced back and forth between the three of them before settling his gaze on Beckett. "But, you already knew that."

"What do you mean?" McKay demanded, looking from Draco to Beckett. "Carson?"

Weir shook her head. "I assure you, I'm not under any kind of compulsion," she said. "It really is a very good idea."

Draco gave a snort. "That's a tidy way to avoid using an Unforgivable," he remarked, aiming a sneer at Beckett. "Especially on a muggle. It might as well be an Imperio for all the chance they have of resisting it."

"Carson," Sheppard's voice was deceptively mild, but even Draco could hear the dangerous edge to it. "Is he saying that Elizabeth is under a magic spell? That's controlling her actions? That she's compromised?"

"Not in the way you're implying," Beckett replied stiffly, glaring a Draco. "No one was hurt, or taken advantage of, but the Order had to get Potter as far away from Voldemort as possible." He let out a huff of frustration. "There was a suggestion planted that it was vitally important to implement a student exchange program immediately." 

The look in Sheppard's eye was deadly. "Take it off." 

"Colonel-"

"I _said_ , take it _off_ , Carson." His tone was even, but it brooked no argument.

Beckett pressed his lips together into a tight line and then nodded and pulled out his wand. "Finite," he murmured, with a flick of his wand before stowing it away again. 

Weir blinked and shook her head as if to clear it. "I…" she trailed off, blinking a few more times before her gaze narrowed on Beckett. "I never would have agreed to have students here," she said, sounding betrayed. "It's too dangerous with the Wraith and all the other unknowns." She looked over at John. "We have to send them back, as soon as possible. I won't be a party to this."

"No, Elizabeth!" Beckett protested. "You don't understand. If you send him back, you're signing his death warrant." He looked at them all, beseechingly, willing them to understand. "There is literally nowhere on earth that Voldemort can't find him."

*~*hp*~*hp*~*hp*~*

The door began to materialize in the wall before the three of them had even reached the end of the corridor, and the three friends looked at each other.

"I reckon it knew we were coming?" Ron said hesitantly, looking to Hermione for confirmation. She just shook her head and glanced at Harry.

He took a deep breath then strode up, pushed the door open and walked inside. It was the same as he'd left it a short while ago, quiet and empty except for the two mirrors on opposite sides of the room.

"Well, let's get looking for it then," Hermione said, and the three of them split off in different directions to see if they could spot the control device described in the book. It didn't take long to determine it was nowhere to be found.

"Now what?" Ron asked. 

"More research," Hermione said, opening the book up to where she'd left off in the library. "There may be something else we can do, some way to work around it." She let out a hmmmm. "Maybe this… just a moment, let me read…" she flipped forward a few pages, fingers skimming over the text.

Harry wandered away, his fingers tapping a rhythm on his thighs as he meandered across the room. He found himself in front of the mirror he hadn’t seen since first year and came to a stop, wondering if what he saw this time would be the same as before. He wasn't surprised when the figures of his parents coalesced in the reflection to stand at his side. The bittersweet yearning it evoked was still strong, but not as overwhelming as it once was. 

His eyes widened slightly as several new figures unexpectedly appeared beside his refection. First was Sirius, which made sense. He missed his godfather fiercely, and would give almost anything to have him back. The other figure, however, left him staring, slack mouthed in shock. Malfoy stood there beside him, lip curled up, not in a disdainful sneer, but in sardonic humour. Harry knew the difference, though he couldn’t explain how. And while he might admit in the privacy of his own mind that a part of him wished he and Malfoy could have been friends, this was clearly more than that. The way they were standing so closely, the body language, the smile his counterpart was giving the Draco in the mirror – it said they were a lot more than just friends. 

Harry stumbled back from the mirror, shaking his head. No bloody way did he desire Draco sodding Malfoy, not like that. So the git was attractive. He'd started noticing that about blokes as far back as fifth year. And so what if he'd had a few dreams that featured Malfoy, it didn't mean anything. It didn't make him special, didn't mean Harry wanted him. Not Malfoy.

"I think I've got it," Hermione's voice cut across his turbulent thoughts and he gratefully turned toward her and away from the damned mirror.

"So, normally this is controlled with a magical artifact that allows you to choose your destination," she explained. "As far as I can tell, you absolutely need it to choose a new target, but!" she looked up excitedly, the thrill of discovery making her eyes sparkle. "If we use a variation of a Prior Incantato – and ok, it's not a wand, but it should work because it's clearly a magical object – and used a version of Specialis Revelio for a new spell – well, I think we can make it show us where Malfoy went!"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, grinning. 

"You're amazing Hermione!" Ron said, and Harry laughed.

"She sure is," he agreed. "Let's do it!"

She nodded, then closed the book and shoved it into her bag before pulling out her wand and focusing on the mirror. "Prior Conspectio Revelio!" She waved her wand slowly back and forth in front of the mirror. There was the faintest shimmer and then suddenly it flared to life. 

"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed, staring in open mouth wonder.

The mirror was showing them a large, airy room. Harry could see a tall window of stained glass in the background, but there was no sign of life. "Malfoy!" he called out. "Are you there?"

He waited a moment, the looked at Hermione. "You're sure that it's showing us where he went?"

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I'm as sure as I can be. I mean, it's possible there's something I didn't take into account, it's not like I've had a lot of time to research it, but… I think so."

He nodded. "Ok," he said, turning back to look at the other room. "I'm going after him."

"What? No!" she grabbed his arm, staring at him, aghast. 

"No way, mate, that's mental!" Ron exclaimed, coming up on his other side. "We've got no idea where this goes."

"I'll just take a quick look around," Harry argued. "You stay right here, and open it up in a few minutes, and I'll come right back."

"Oh, this is not a good idea!" she insisted.

"It'll be fine," he assured her as he pulled out his wand and held it at the ready. 

"That's what the hero always says," Ron grumbled as Harry reached out toward the shimmering surface. Hermione was still clutching at Harry's sleeve, and Ron tried to pull her back. "Right before things go catastrophically-"

With a flash, all three of them vanished, and the mirror surfaced faded back to a flat, uniform grey.

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

"No, Albus!" Lily said, glaring at the man standing before her. "We have already told you repeatedly, we are not bringing Harry back to England."

Despite having informed the Order that they would not be returning, Dumbledore had continued to urge them to reconsider. Lily had eventually blocked the floo against intercontinental calls. She should have known that his next step would be an international portkey. She suspected he had even deliberately timed it so that James would not be present – as if James would be the more difficult of them to convince. The old wizard didn't clearly didn't know her at all if that was what he thought.

"But he will _not_ be safe, Lily," Dumbledore warned. "Not even in the Lost City." 

Lily stared up at Dumbledore's earnest expression and forced herself to remain composed. "I think Harry's a damn sight safer there than here right now. We're his parents and it's our decision to make. He is staying there. I _will not_ bring him back just to drag him to London, disrupt his life and place him in danger. It's madness!"

"You must, Lily," he said, regret colouring his voice. "I am so sorry it has come to this. I dearly hoped that Harry would be spared this, that Tom would never again rise to power, but he has." Dumbledore sighed. "Harry is the only one who can defeat him."

"How?" she demanded, furious and terrified by turns. "How on _earth_ could Harry possibly begin to fight him? That, that _monster_ stole my son's ability to use magic when he was just a baby! And now, because of the rantings of some sherry addled old seer, you want my son to stand as champion against _him_? It would be a slaughter! You would be sending Harry to certain death! What, exactly, is your grand plan to prepare my son to defeat _Him_?"

She was breathing heavily, waiting for Dumbledore to tell her how they would prepare and protect Harry, what secret weapon or spell or training they had in store to enable him to defeat Voldemort. She waited for him to proclaim that they would do everything to keep Harry safe and unveil his cunning Gryffindor strategy. 

"Albus?" she asked, voice shaky as she look up at him, waiting and hoping, but as the seconds dragged on, the expected promises were not forthcoming. He looked back at her with utter patience and infinite sorrow and a cold tendril of dread twisted in her belly.

"Oh, no," she breathed, stumbling back from him, blood pounding in her ears. "No, no, no, no…" 

"Lily, there is no other way."

"NO!" She lunged at him, hands outstretched to slap him, punch him, scratch his eyes out, she wasn't even sure, she just needed to hurt him with all the rage that was bubbling up from the bottom of her soul. Suddenly she was caught, his hands wrapped around her wrists, holding her back from striking him. "You can't _have him_! I didn't keep him _safe_ all these _years_ just so YOU could come in and drag him off to fight a foe he can't possibly defeat just to fulfill some _ridiculous prophecy_!"

"My dear girl, please listen -"

"I am NOT YOUR DEAR GIRL!" she screamed, fighting with all her strength, and finally managing to get one arm free. She lashed out at him, her fingernails leaving bright red furrows across his face before he recaptured her wrist.

"He's a horcrux, Lily.

The moment hung between them, stretching out as time seemed to stop and the universe spun around them. The quiet statement hit her like a bludger and she felt her heart shatter. "No, no he's not," she whispered, shaking her head. "He can't be. You're _lying_ , it _can't be true_!" 

"I wish it weren't," he replied, his voice regretful, but filled with implacable conviction. Lily stared at him, watched the blood oozing from the gouges, dripping down into his beard. "But it is. You know it's true." 

With a sick sense of clarity, it all snapped into place – the headaches, the nightmares, the incessant visions - it was the only thing that could really explain the connection between Voldemort and Harry all these years. Lily wavered, knees going weak and Dumbledore gently ushered her over to the sofa, where she sank down.

"Not my Harry," she repeated numbly, clutching a throw pillow to her chest.

Dumbledore settled beside her. "You knew we'd destroyed four of them, but we recently located a fifth at Hogwarts in the Ravenclaw diadem." He held a hand out in front of him, and for the first time, she noticed a blackness spreading almost to the tips of his fingers, over the back of his hand and up his wrist. "Severus has been an invaluable help in all of this. If not for his potions, I would be dead already from a curse on one of them. With his help, I should be able to see this through to the end."

She looked away. Her heart still missed her first and oldest wizarding friend, but his choices had forever broken it. 

"We believe the sixth horcrux must be something he keeps close, but we have yet to determine what it is." His expression grew graver still. "When you told me about Harry's dreams these last few years, I began to suspect it and consulted with Firenze. Between the dreams and other portents, I'm afraid the evidence is overwhelming that a seventh horcrux was created when Harry's heart stopped." He paused a moment gathering his thoughts. "The soul shard would have died, but the Healers saved Harry -" 

"- and the horcrux with him," Lily whispered, staring at him.

"Yes," he agreed. "We will never be able to kill Tom unless every horcrux is destroyed. And it must be Tom who destroys the one in Harry."

"No!" she yelled, leaping off the sofa and whirling to face him. "Find another way! Lock him up! Chop him into pieces!" She crossed her arms and began to pace the length of the room. "You have the entire department of magic at your disposal! You have the Unspeakables! You've literally had years to come up with _something_ to try and fight him, and your final answer-" She stopped short, turning the entire power of her fury on him. "Your only solution is that my _son_ has to _die_?"

"If only there was some other way, believe me, my dearest desire would be to spare Harry. But _He_ has grown too powerful to contain in any prison or any cell. His body can be regenerated again if we destroy it." Dumbledore sighed with regret. "Lily, he has only begun with England, but it will never be enough for him. Already he seeks to conquer the rest of the wizarding world, and then move on to the muggle one. Already hundreds of good magical folk and innocent muggles have died at the hands of his Death Eaters. If we don't stop him by destroying every horcrux, the entire world will burn."

She stared back at him, eyes red but dry. "Then it burns, and I'll burn with it. But I'm _not_ giving you my son."


	16. Synergist

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

It was surreal, Hal thought, watching the argument go round in circles. He'd always been - average. Nothing special, just a normal guy, growing up in an average, boring town. He was kind of a nerd and a geek, but he grew up watching Next Gen, so even that was pretty normal. He was an average student with normal friends, and yeah, his parents were weird and uber-English and always teased and embarrassed him in front of his friends, but that was what parents did and it was normal too.

Except, not really. Because they were wizards. And magic was real. And they were in America in some kind of magical version of the witness protection program. Because Hal was apparently not normal or average at all. Because Hal was the center of a prophecy and a crazy warlock with a death soldier army wanted him dead.

Yep. So far from normal, it wasn't even in the same galaxy. He struggled not to break out in hysterical giggles at the thought – he really _wasn't_ in the same galaxy as normal. Literally.

For a few minutes, Hal thought that Weir was going to summarily send him, Grace and Rob back to Earth without any further discussion. Eventually though, Dr. Beckett's strident arguments convinced her to hold off speak to his father first. 

His father – not just a British intelligence consultant working with the US Airforce, but also _a wizard_. Some kind of _wizard cop_ no less. Who happened to be the British _wizarding liaison_ to the Stargate program while he was at it. Hal tried to wrap his mind around it, but his head started spinning. Magic, evil wizards, prophecies. And Draco, from another universe, where the Hal there was supposedly some kind of hero, who kept giving him these sidelong looks when he thought Hal wasn't looking. It was all pretty overwhelming.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," Weir said, making it clear Hal was not invited to the emergency dial-in to the SGC. "There are likely to be a number of things discussed that are far beyond your clearance level." She held up a hand before he could protest further. "I understand you have many things you wish to speak to your father about, but now is simply not the time."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Well, can I go back to assisting Dr. Kusanagi then?" he asked. "I need to do something!"

McKay just snorted. "Are you kidding? After all this, you'd be nothing but a liability," he said, putting paid to that plan. "You're almost as much of a trouble magnet as Sheppard is, and I don't trust you not to trip over something explosive and blow up my lab."

His face burned in embarrassment. He tried to argue, but McKay just steamrolled right over him. "Last time I checked, I was the head scientist here. Which means, hey! I get to decide if you can work for me." McKay's eyes flashed in annoyance. "Go anywhere near my labs and I'll have one of the Marine's toss you in the brig."

"Rodney, stop threatening to throw people in the brig," Sheppard said mildly. "I've told you before, you can't tell my marines to incarcerate other civilians just because they annoy you."

"Gentlemen, _please_!" Weir gave Sheppard and McKay both a pointed look before turning to Draco. "I promise we'll work to get you home as quickly as possible, but as I explained earlier, Dr. McKay still needs to repair the damaged controller."

"And ye could prove yer no a Death Eater by telling us everything ye know about his plans and helping us defeat Voldemort," Beckett interjected.

"I'm not sure if I know anything of use, but I'm willing to help if I can," Draco replied quickly. 

"But _until_ we decide on the best course of action," Weir said as she tossed a quelling glance at Beckett, "there are guest quarters you can rest in." 

Draco looked up in surprise. "I'm not being put back in that cell?"

"Do we need to put you back in that cell?" Sheppard inquired smoothly, raising an eyebrow.

Draco stiffened. "I already gave my word that I would cooperate!"

Weir gave Sheppard a stern look, but he just smiled at her, completely unrepentant. She turned back to address Draco. "You have acted in good faith and surrendered your – your wand. There's no reason you can't enjoy the hospitality of more pleasant quarters while you're here." She nodded at John and he tapped his earwig and started talking quietly. "Colonel Sheppard will have someone escort you there."  
  
  
  
Hal was at loose ends since McKay wouldn't let him go back to work. Beckett had been adamant he not discuss any of this with his friends, but he chuckled darkly at that directive. The three of them had been best friends since middle-school, and they had always told each other everything. Even if he tried to keep a secret, it would take Grace less than 10 minutes to ferret it out, the statutes of some wizarding society he knew nothing about be damned. What was Beckett going to do, wipe his memory like he did to that nurse? 

He fell in silently alongside Draco as the Marine escorted him to the guest quarters. Despite the revelations – or, perhaps because of them – it seemed to Hal that Draco was viewed as more of a potentially danger than a guest. On the other hand, he had to admit it would be irresponsible to let anyone who was ATA positive wander around the city unattended without training, regardless of whether they were trusted or not.

When they reached the guest quarters, Hal was pleased to see they weren't far from his own.

"Thank you, Sergeant," Hal said as he waved off the marine and followed Draco into the room. When the marine made no move to leave, Hal paused in the doorway, frowning. "Do you have to stay here?"

"Colonel Sheppard said that Mr. Malfoy is to be escorted at all times, sir."

Hal made a face. "Just Hal please, sir makes me think of my dad." He glanced at Draco then back at the marine. "Um… if I stay with him, does that count?"

The marine cocked an eyebrow at him and then silently took up a post outside Draco's door.

"So that's a no, then," Hal muttered as the door slid closed.

He turned find Draco looking curiously around. Hal remembered his first few days on Atlantis, trying to get a handle on it all and thought Draco might appreciate a little advice. "Let me give you the ten cent tour," he said as he followed Draco into the room. "There are a couple ways you can make things work. Now, everyone can activate the door by proximity, but if you have a strong expression of the gene–" Hal gave Draco a conspiratorially grin, "which you obviously do, since you can hear her – with a little practise, you'll be able to open or lock them with your mind. It's pretty cool."

Hal walked over to the washroom and stood in the doorway. "You'll find the plumbing a little different too," he said, pointing at the shower. "You can control water pressure and temperature just by thinking about it." He looked over to find Draco staring at him oddly. 

"What?" Hal asked, feeling awkward. 

"Nothing," Draco replied stiffly, turning his gaze to the window.

"Right," he said, staring at the other man's profile. Perhaps Draco just wanted to be alone for a bit. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" came the quick denial, surprising Hal. Draco cleared his throat. "No," he said again, quieter this time.

Hal crossed his arms, trying not to fidget. "Well, what's wrong then?"

Draco turned back to face him, an expression of incredulity on his face. "You mean, other than being stuck in an alternate universe and accused of being a murderer and almost getting murdered myself, and –"

"Ok, that _was_ a really stupid question," Hal admitted, flushing again. It was certainly his day for being embarrassed. "I mean, what's wrong _besides_ the obvious," he said with a wry laugh. "I need Grace to save me from foot-in-the-mouth disease. Sometimes I don't think before I speak and I end up saying really dumb things."

"On that, we're agreed," Draco muttered, looking away. Hal opened his mouth to protest but Draco continued. "You really are shockingly like him, you know. He just says whatever comes into his mind, sometimes stupid, sometimes stupidly brave." Draco turned his gaze back at Hal. "You just… completely ignored the healer and came and sat beside me." He shook his head. "It's rather odd being the one Harry Potter chooses to bestow his attention upon rather than to snub."

"Sounds like there's a story there," Hal said, the corner of his mouth curling up.

Draco laughed quietly. "Suffice it to say that when we were children and I extend the hand of friendship to him, things went quite the opposite way."

Hal lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head to one side, and Draco looked away. "I was trying to get you – I mean _him_ – to choose a friendship with me over someone else. I might have been a bit… arrogant. Presumptuous. And bigoted." He swallowed and looked back up at Hal, a myriad of different emotions flitting across his face. "Honestly, I was a right prat. But there was always a small part of me that wished he and I could have been friends, despite our enmity. As I said, you're quite like him, and it was – very pleasant talking with you over lunch." Draco's tone turned wistful. "I'd like to imagine he and I could have had such conversations had things been different."

Hal stood there quietly for a moment, tapping the fingers of one hand on his rhythmically on his crossed arm. "Well…" he began, speaking slowly, as if considering something carefully. "You did say that he testified at your trial, right? Told them about how you protected him?"

Draco nodded and Hal continued. "Given the way you acted when you thought I was him, it's obvious things are still pretty rough between you." Hal hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "So you're both back at school this year, and _you_ at least wish things could be different between you, so…" Hal raised an eyebrow, giving Draco a questioning look. "Haven't you tried to talk to him? To clear things up, apologize? Anything like that?"

"Not yet. I've been trying to, but…" He shook his head. "We're supposed to talk. It's mandated as part of my sentence, and Potter agreed to it, but so far, he's avoided me!" Draco scowled. "He promised my case manager that he would, since I am required to make my amends to him, but he's dodged every effort I've made to set up a time that worked for him. 

"Make amends?"

"I have to make amends and restitution to those I have wronged." Draco grimaced. "I have no idea how I can do that when he hates me so much he won't even allow me a few minutes to apologize for what I've done."

Hal tilted his head back. "Y'know, I can't speak for the guy, but personally? I wouldn't go to bat for someone I hated. Just sayin'." He spread his arms out, hands up imploringly. "Maybe he doesn't actually hate you. Maybe he's just… messed up. From what you've said, this war really fucked you up. And he actually went to face this crazy guy all alone, planning to die?" Hal shook his head again, still struggling with all he'd learned. He rubbed the remnant of the scar on his forehead, feeling the sharp lance of pain that was often a precursor of a migraine, and made a face. Maybe his luck at avoiding the headaches was running out. "I mean, I'm messed up just hearing about this stuff. Maybe he just can't deal."

Draco scoffed. "I hardly think the Boy Who Lived to become the center of the Wizarding World can be having that much difficulty adjusting," he said, rolling his eyes. "Everyone loves him." Draco's face tightened. "Everyone," he said again, voice barely a whisper.

"Wow, no bitterness there at all, huh?" Hal asked dryly, grinning as Draco tossed him a two finger salute. "So I take it you're not exactly Mr. Popularity."

Draco chuckled in spite of himself. "No."

"So, the thing is…" Hal trailed off again, then bit his lip. He wasn't sure the prickly but interesting man he was getting to know would appreciate what he had to say.

"Yes?" Draco asked. He looked, impatient, eager and a little nervous all at once. "Out with it."

Hal crossed his arms and let heavy sigh. "I think you need to be brutally honest with him. As in the bare-your-soul kind of honest that leaves you vulnerable and exposed and open to being destroyed. You gotta tell him how you really feel."

Hal watched him do a double take and go very pale. "What?" Draco croaked out, suddenly looking like he might be sick. Hal narrowed his eyes at the dramatic reaction. Draco had already survived a crazy megalomaniac living in his house and a war. Hal wasn't sure what it was about dealing with his counterpart that Draco was so terrified of.

"Look," he soldiered on, hoping to soothe Draco's fears. "He doesn't know you regret what happened when you tried to make friends as kids. You haven’t had a chance to explain that you wish things were different now. I don't think he's going to figure it out for himself." Hal dropped his head with a self-deprecating grin. "If he's anything like me, anyway. I've been told by my friends that I can be as obtuse as 179 degree angle."

Draco looked at him in bewilderment.

"Uhm," he muttered, face turning red again. "A little geometry humour there. Thick as a plank," he tried again. "Completely oblivious. Needing to be hit with a clue by four?"

Draco waved a hand, smiling faintly. "I think I get your point."

Hal nodded in relief. "It's just, you keep saying that we're a lot alike, and I know me," he explained. "If I'm hurt, I have a really hard time getting over stuff, and I sometimes say stupid, mean shit. If he's like me, you'll probably have to corner him so he can't pull a runner and then tell him." Hal stared at him. "All of it, what you resent, what you regret, do the whole being vulnerable and exposed thing. Be painfully honest and do not let any stupid shit he says get under your skin. You will probably need to ignore at least the three stupid things that come out of his mouth." Hal shrugged. "Grace says that it takes an emotional sledgehammer to get through to me when I'm upset, but I eventually come around. And, I appreciate it when people are honest with me. So maybe he's the same."

 

 

Draco slowly sank down on the sofa and considered what might happen if instead of making only his court ordered apologies and offer of restitution – which he suspected Potter would reject, because really, how could he in any way make up for what he'd done over the years – he was completely honest with Potter? How might Potter react if Draco told him he wished they could have been friends? That Draco had envied Potter's friendships with Grander and Weasley and had always wished he could have been part of Potter's golden circle? Could he tell Potter he wanted another chance without betraying his foolish crush?

He snorted and shook his head. Potter would never believe him, and even if he did, he wouldn't care. He would mock Draco for hoping that he'd ever befriend him. No, best to stick to the plan, do what the court required – and if Potter wouldn't meet with, well, Madam Consano had been clear that Draco wouldn't be penalized for that. He glanced up to see Hal looking at him hopefully, and deflected by changing the subject.

"It sounds like your friend Grace knows you very well."

"Oh yeah," Hal said as he pulled the chair out from the desk and spun it around. He sat astride it, arms folded across the backrest. "Grace and Rob have been my best buddies since my family moved to Colorado Springs," he said, smiling brightly. "We've pretty much been inseparable since 6th grade. Our parents were always calling each other to find out where we were last seen," he said, laughing at the memory. "If we weren't riding our bikes or tromping through the woods or out at the park, we were camped out in each other's backyards. We basically lived at each other's houses growing up." 

Draco marvelled at the idea of such a free, unstructured childhood. While he didn't know all that much about Potter's life growing up, he'd heard rumours that it had been pretty grim – nothing at all like what the man in front of him was describing. "It sounds as though growing up was quite the adventure."

Hal smiled, his gaze turned inward, lost in happy memories. "Yeah, it was good." He started chuckling and shaking his head. "And man, we got into so much trouble together, but if our parents actually knew even half they stuff we got up to that they didn't find out about, I'm sure they would all be completely grey by now." His smile faded, turning into a frown. "I couldn't believe our luck when my dad told me we all were accepted into this program, but it looks like luck had nothing to do with it after all."

Draco nodded. "If the Dark Lord is coming after you and you have no way to fight him, I'm not surprised the Order sent you as far away as they could."

"And my friends," Hal added. "I told my dad I wasn't interested in this program unless they came too. I'd rather have been at State with them then come here without." He looked unhappy. "If this Voldemort guy is looking for me, they're going to be in danger."

Draco shook his head. "No, I'd say you've rather made them safer by insisting on staying together."

Hal contemplated that for a moment, then nodded. "If they're in danger, I think they deserve to know, despite what Dr. Beckett says." He gave Draco a smirk and tapped his earwig once, paused, then twice more. "Leung, Fierro, copy?" His eyes went unfocused, listening to a conversation Draco could not hear.

After a moment he laughed. "Of course it worked, Rob! You shouldn't doubt Grace when she says she can do something with computers or electronics." Hal's expression softened, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm fine, Gracie, really. Look, does Kusanagi still have you guys working?" There was another brief pause before he spoke again. "Yeah. You guys head up to Gracie's quarters and radio me back on this channel when you get there." Hal grinned at Draco. "There's someone I want you to meet."


	17. a = Δv ÷ Δt

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

Harry stumbled as he found himself unexpectedly in the room they had been gazing into. To his chagrin, he realized that somehow, he'd managed to bring Ron and Hermione along with him. They clutched at each other as they struggled to maintain their balance. Once they recovered, they turned to find a mirror twin to the one in the Room of Requirement. It showed the same dull grey appearance the mirror there had presented before Hermione cast the spell.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked at his friends apologetically. "I'm sorry this happened, but maybe with three of us, we'll be able to find-" 

Before he could continue, an alarm began to sound. " _Intruder alert. Unauthorized access detected,_ " a disembodied voice announced over the noise.

Ron and Harry pulled their wands, automatically dropping into a defensive stance as they bracketed Hermione between them. Harry searched the room, trying to determine where the voice was coming from. 

"Hello?" Hermione called out. "We don't mean to intrude, we're just looking for our classmate. We think he got lost here by accident. Malfoy? Are you there? Can you hear me?"

A flash of light caught Harry's attention, and he looked over to the entrance of the room where a light blue glow illuminated the door from floor to ceiling and the smell of ozone filled the air.

"Bloody hell," muttered Ron, shaking his head. "This is what we get for trying to help the ferret!" 

"I _knew_ I should have made you go to McGonagall," Hermione muttered as she pulled the book out of her bag, flipping through it to find the page she'd originally been looking at. "Just give me a moment to adapt the spell so it will take us back to Hogwarts…"

Harry felt a sudden surge of anger and frustration. He'd just wanted to make sure Malfoy wasn't causing trouble – or in any trouble – and suddenly, everything was going wrong. He'd inadvertently dragged his friends through the portal and possibly into danger and Hermione was upset and that damn noise was giving him a headache and he just wanted it to _stop right bloody well now_ –

The three of them looked at each other in surprise when the alarm went quiet.

"Erm.." Ron was the first to speak, looking around suspiciously in the sudden silence. "That was strange."

Harry agreed, but he was just thankful the godawful noise had stopped. He moved slowly towards the entrance, studying the glow. "You know, I don't think it would take much to disrupt this."

Ron walked over to join him, wand at the ready. "Looks kind of like a protego maxima, but…." He tilted his head to one side. "It feels _weird_. Itchy, almost."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Harry stared at the blue glow carefully. "It's kind of like being too close to a powerful ward and standing beside an electrified fence at the same time."

Ron gave him shrug. "No idea about the fence, but the ward… yeah. But weird."

Harry rolled his wand between his fingertips, a speculative look on his face. "I bet you it takes one dissipo. Maybe a follow up evenesco, and it's gone."

Ron cocked his head to one side, considering. "Make it a dissipo maxima and I bet you won't even need the evenesco."

"Might do, but that could disintegrate the wall. If we just cast–" 

"Are you two serious?" Hermione strode up to the two of them, and glared at each in turn. "We should go back and get help!" 

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron before turning to face Hermione. "Hermione, we're already here. The least I can do is take a quick look around to see if I can find him." 

Hermione gestured grandly around the room. "If Malfoy was nearby, he would have heard us when I called," she said, giving him a look recognized as part worry, part annoyance. "And we have no idea where we are or what we're dealing with."

Harry held up a hand to cut off her protests. "You said it yourself. What if he's in trouble? What if the time it takes to go back and explain it to McGonagall and have her call in the Aurors is time he can't afford?" 

She reached out, laying a hand on his arm, her voice going soft. "It's not like it was during the war. You don't have to do everything yourself, Harry. We don't have to. We can ask for help." 

He shook his head. "Look, I'm just going to go take a quick look around like I originally planned. I can't just leave if someone might be in danger, not even Malfoy. How about you and Ron go back and talk to-"

"No way, Mate!" Ron crossed his arms, affronted at the mere idea. "Not leaving you to wander off into Merlin knows what kind of trouble by yourself." 

"If I leave the two of you to your own devices, I shudder to think of the possible consequences." Hermione drew in the deep breath through her nose and let it out in a huff. "Fifteen minutes. We go together, we stay together, and you don't do anything foolish." She pulled out her wand and pointed it at them, giving Ron and Harry each hard stares in turn. "You either agree, or I'll body-bind and leviosa you both back to Hogwarts right this minute."

"Hey now, no need for threats, Hermione!" Ron groused, but Harry could see it was only a half-hearted complaint.

Harry smiled, ducking his head. "Course we agree," he said, bumping shoulder with Ron. "You know she's the main reason we survived the war, mate," he said with a chuckle. "Silly to argue with her now."

"Yeah, alright," Ron agreed, giving Harry a sideways look. "Fine. So, what now?"

"Now, we find out if you were right." Hermione flourished her wand and cast at the door. "Dissipo! Evenesco!" The blue glow flickered unsteadily for a moment before vanishing. 

"I knew it!" Harry crowed as he bolted straight out the door.

"Harry!" Hermione snapped, stamping one foot. "You just promised not to do anything foolish!"

Harry stuck his head back through the door. "I didn't think it was foolish to trust your spells," he said dryly, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Well? Let's get going, time's a-wasting!"  
  
  
  
Weir strode briskly up the stairs to the command center, Sheppard right beside her. McKay and Beckett followed a few steps behind. "Chuck, please dial the SGC."

Chuck blinked at the unexpected command, glancing between Sheppard and McKay before looking back at Weir. "Uhm… yes, ma'am." He entered the sequence, and moments later the gate flared to life. 

Weir stared at the gate for a moment, then took a deep breath. She leaned against the command console, bracing herself with both hands. "Stargate Command, this is Dr. Weir."

There was a momentary pause. "Dr. Weir, this is Chief Master Sgt. Walter Harriman. Colonel Landry is currently offsite as it is 0342 hours local time, but if this is an emergency-" 

Sheppard cut him off. "This is Sheppard. We're aware of the time difference, Chief. It's not an exactly an emergency, but we do need to contact the IOA's UK liaison James Potter as soon as possible."

"That's something I can help you with immediately, sir." Harriman's voice was calm and even, sounding as if he handled unexpected requests to contact random IOA personnel every day. "Mr. Potter is currently onsite after meetings today that will be continuing tomorrow. I'll page him, but it will take a few minutes for him to reach to the control room."

"Elizabeth, we should disengage the gate and dial back." McKay glanced between her and Sheppard. "There's no point in further depleting the ZPM just to wait for him to walk across the SGC."

"Of course," she agreed. "Sergeant, please do what you can to expedite Mr. Potter's arrival. We'll dial back in 15 minutes."

"Roger that, Atlantis. Command out."

With a nod from Sheppard, Chuck disengaged the gate.

Beckett stepped in close to Weir, dropping his voice. "As a precaution, I'd appreciate it if we could clear the room, Elizabeth." He glanced around at the personnel who were present. "I'd rather avoid having to Obliviate anyone else if any magic ends up being used."

Weir turned to address the expedition members currently on duty. "Your attention please," she said, glancing around her. "I need all of you to clear the command center for the next half hour." Before anyone could object, McKay spoke up.

"Yes, that means all of you. No, we're not going to explain. Anyone here who is in my department and isn't gone in the next ten seconds will find themselves assigned a whole lot of extra shifts in maintenance and sanitation this week." McKay grinned smugly at Sheppard and Weir when all the science personal vanished with alacrity.

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Take a break, Chuck," he advised the technician, and Chuck tossed a quick yessir and hurried down the stairs. Sheppard leaned over the railing to address the marines standing guard duty on the lower level. "That means you guys too," he said. "Extra-long coffee break today."

"Sir, yes sir!" one of them called up as they, too, departed the room. A few seconds later, the command center and gate room were was empty except for the four of them. 

McKay dropped into the seat Chuck had vacated and began to fidget with console while Sheppard leaned a hip against it. Weir, arms wrapped around her waist, tapped the fingertips of one hand restlessly against her forearm as she slowly paced the length of the command center.

Sheppard turned to where Beckett stood near the railing. "So now what? We dial earth and you talk to Potter about what the Malfoy kid told us? What about the people back at the SGC? I don't think they're going to clear the control center so we can have a private conversation. Does everyone there know?"

Beckett shook his head. "There are only a few at the SGC who know, and Sgt. Harriman isn't one of them." 

Weir stopped pacing and frowned. "What difference does it make if we clear the room and encrypt the recordings here on Atlantis if everything we discuss through the gate is witnessed and recorded by the SGC?"

"I was wondering the same thing." Sheppard pinned Beckett with a stare, arms crossed tightly, his foot tapping with jittery energy. "Is he going to obviate them all? Cuz I gotta tell you, Carson, this whole mind wiping thing is making me a little cranky."

"Obliviate," Beckett corrected with a sigh. "And no, Colonel, he will not." He took a deep breath, then looked at each one of them intently for a moment. "I sent Potter a message while you were speaking with the sergeant. This simply isn't something we can discuss over the radio."

All three of them stared at him, but McKay was the first to react. "How? You never said a word!"

"Charmed galleon." Beckett held up a gold coin. "Potter has the twin. I spelled it to let him know we need him on Atlantis immediately."

McKay vaulted up out of his seat and snatched the coin away from him. "How?" he demanded, flipping it over to examine both sides. "This is impossible! What –"

"Protean charm," Beckett replied, grabbing it back from McKay. "His coin would have shown him this message the moment the gate opened." Beckett pointed out the characters around the circumference of the coin that spelled out the words 'POSSIBLE DANGER COME NOW'. 

Sheppard stepped up into Beckett's space, his face hard. "You do _not_ have the authority to invite foreign dignitaries on to this base without clearing it with me and Elizabeth, no matter what the reason!" 

"I'm sorry I didn't discuss it with you first." Beckett's expression regretful, but his tone was resolute. "This is something we must discuss in person. The Order tried to plan for all possible contingencies – being able to get another wizard or witch out here if something happened to me, a plan for getting Harry home quickly if there was some emergency that required he go back to Earth, things like that. We never foresaw that there might be any reason James would be needed – I had to let him know." He frowned. "But… it's very odd that he's there. I was expecting we'd have to wait at least several hours to get hold of him."

"The Sergeant said he was attending meetings," Weir pointed out. "The IOA does sometimes schedule consultations at the mountain."

"I know but… it just doesn't seem right." Beckett shook his head. "It's convenient, but this was not planned. I fear that something may be wrong back on earth." 

A shrill beeping from the main console caught their attention.

Weir's lips tightened as McKay hurried back to his seat. "That doesn't sound promising," she said, moving to stand beside his chair. " 

"I don't _believe_ this!" McKay snarled, his fingers dancing over the keys. "The mirror just activated again! And this time it's showing that three life forms came through!" He rapidly typed in a series of commands then hit the enter key with more force than necessary. "They're not going anywhere!" he said with grim satisfaction.

Johns scowled. "Get it up on the-"

"Already on it, Sheppard," McKay interrupted as he put the put the video feed on the view screen. There was burst of static before the image resolved. There were three people in the room, two men and a woman, dressed in the same dark robes and uniform that Malfoy had been wearing. Two were completely unfamiliar, but the third was unmistakable. 

"That looks remarkably like Hal Potter," Weir offered mildly. "Rodney, how long do we have before we need to worry about entropic cascade failure setting in?" 

"Oh, Merlin!" Beckett muttered.

McKay looked at him askance. "Did you just say _Merlin_? Really?"

Sheppard snapped his fingers. " _Focus_ , McKay!" 

"But… ugh," McKay grumbled. "Well, that depends on several things." His gaze grew sharp as he looked back at Beckett. "How similar was what Malfoy described in his universe to what happened here? I know you argued with him about a bunch of things, but overall. Mostly the same? Were important, key events virtually identical?"

Beckett furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded. "Aye, most the critical events I asked about seemed to have happened there. Sometimes different people initiated them, but mostly it was the same." He grimaced. "Well, except that Voldemort is still alive here. I very much prefer his universe in that respect."

Sheppard gave McKay a dubious look. "What does that have to do with anything?" Then he looked at Weir. "And what's entropy… whatever you said?"

"Entropic cascade failure occurs if you enter a reality where you already exist using the quantum mirror," Beckett explained. "It starts with seizures that get worse as time goes on until the visitor dies."

Sheppard's eyebrows shot up. "So, what you're saying is that we need to get Malfoy home ASAP."

"He's got at least a couple days," McKay said dismissively. "Radek's already started working on the controller, it'll be fixed before that. But the closer to identical our universes are, the longer he has." He looked back at the monitor, where the new visitors were pointing their wands at the door. "Or, the longer they have, assuming that all of them have counterparts here."

There was a warning chime from the console; at the same moment, Sheppard saw the force field McKay had put over the door wink out and the one who looked like Potter dart through it.

"Dammit!" He tapped his earwig. "Lorne! Get some marines and head to B16. Three more visitors, from the universe as our current guest and similarly armed." His face twisted up in distaste. "Yes, with sticks that look like magic wands."

Beckett gave Sheppard a quelling look. Sheppard held his out in front of him and shrugged eloquently. He tapped off the earwig for a second. "How _else_ am I supposed to describe it?" he demanded. "The marines have all been talking about the 'magic wand' since they disarmed Malfoy. You going to go and obviate all my men?"

"Oblivate!"

"Whatever!"

Beckett sighed and shook his head as he looked at the screen. "That really does look a lot like Potter's son. And…" he peered at the screen, letting out a huff of surprise. "I think that's one of Arthur's boys. Certainly looks like Weasley ginger." He looked at Sheppard, lips curling up into a hint of a smile. "They're rather known for pranks and sneaky magic. The marines are going to have their hands full."

Sheppard nodded and tapped his earwig again. "One of our visitors appears to be and alternate of Hal Potter. Secure them and bring them to the briefing room." He paused a moment, then pulled a face. "And try _not_ to shoot them."


	18. Nonrenormalizability

Rob and Grace dutifully followed Kusanagi's instructions on how to submit the details of their day's work for approval and where to recharge the tablets and stow the collection baskets for the next day. 

"Thank you for your work today." She gave them both a little nod as they placed them on the recessed shelf at the back of the lab they were in. "We have inventoried most of this section, which would have taken several more days if I'd had to do it alone," she said as she tapped in the command to approve the records for upload to the database. "Cataloguing newly opened areas of the city is not typically this… eventful." 

Grace smiled weakly. "That's good to know." She fidgeted for a moment, before sparing Rob a quick glance. He shook his head ever so slightly, and she rolled her eyes. "Dr. Kusanagi, we haven’t heard anything about Hal since he went with the Marines. Is everything ok?" she asked, ignoring the exasperated look Rob shot her way.

Kusanagi looked up from her tablet. "If there were any danger, Dr. McKay would not have allowed us to return to our tasks," she answered with equanimity. "I believe that Mr. Potter may still be in debriefing with Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir regarding the incident earlier today." She smiled kindly at them. "I am sure you will see him soon."

Grace opened her mouth to ask another question, but Rob cut her off. "Thanks, Doc," he said, giving Grace a pointed look that begged her to shut up. "See you tomorrow."

Kusanagi gave them another nod and waved them toward Hansen who was quietly standing by the door waiting for them to finish up. 

Grace linked her arm with Rob's as they began to walk over toward the Marine. Rob winced as her fingers clamped tightly around his wrist, squeezing the bones together. "Tell me why I shouldn't punch you hard enough to knock you on your ass," she murmured quietly, still pissed about being interrupted.

Rob leaned in close. "Geeze, Grace, ease up before you break something!" he hissed and she relaxed her grip, eliciting a sigh of relief.

She came to a halt and turned to face him. "Talk now!" she ordered, keeping her voice low.

He spared a glance for Hansen and Kusanagi before turning toward her, careful to stand between so he blocked Hansen's line of sight. "Gracie, this is a top secret base. They are not going to tell us anything, and if you ask too many questions, they're just going to throw is into the brig or something. We need to go find Hal on our own."

She gave him a disbelieving look. "Seriously? You are still on with the paranoid conspiracy theories after they let us come here? "

He threw out an arm gesturing around them. "Case in point!" He crossed his arms cocking an eyebrow at her. "I was right about there being a secret base, wasn't I?" 

"Enough with the paranoia, Agent Mulder, they gave us access to the X-files! They're not going to throw us in the brig for wanting to know more about what's happening to Hal."

"You don't _know_ that for—"

They both stopped short when they heard a click-click on their earwigs, then Hal's voice, loud and clear. 

Rob tapped his earwig. "Holy shit, that private channel you made actually worked!" he said quietly, grinning at Grace. She made a face and punched him in the arm before touching her own earwig.

_"Of course it worked, Rob! You shouldn't doubt Grace when she says she can do something with computers or electronics."_

"Hal, are you ok?" Grace asked. "We were worried, and no one told us anything."

_"I'm fine, Gracie, really. Look, does Kusanagi still have you guys working?"_

Grace let out a sigh of relief at his response, leaving Rob to answer Hal's question. 

"We're just leaving the lab," Rob said. "You want to meet up?"

_"Yeah. You guys head up to Gracie's quarters and radio me back on this channel when you get there. There's someone I want you to meet."_

Grace and Rob traded a curious look. "See you soon," she said, then tapped off the channel. She raised an eyebrow and gave Rob a speculative look as he did the same. "Is it just me, or was that Hal's, 'I want to know what you think of this hot guy I just met,' tone of voice?"

"Six of one, half dozen of the other," Rob replied with a smirk as they turned together and made their way to the door. "Might be a hot alien."

Grace was just about to punch him when an alarm split the silence. " _Intruder alert. Unauthorized access detected._ "

Hansen snapped to attention and flipped the safety off his weapon. "Stay back," he ordered as he peaked around the door jamb and down the corridor beyond. He tapped his earwig. "Command, the enhanced security protocols Dr. McKay instituted after the incident this morning just—" 

The alarm suddenly cut out, as abruptly as it had begun.

"The fuck?" Hansen muttered under his breath. "Command, the incursion alarm has ceased, say again, the alarm has ceased. I am unable to ascertain if this was a false alarm, current threat level remains high. Please advise." There was a tense moment while they waited, then Hansen nodded. "Roger that command. Moving out."

Hansen made an abrupt gesture. "Let's go, all three of you. We're making our way straight for the transporter. Leave the laptop, Doc," he directed when Kusanagi went to grab it. "Doc, behind me. Leung, Fierro, you follow in order, single file, double time. Let's move."

Grace headed down the hall, heart racing, and wondered if it was another intruder through the mirror or just a false alarm. They were at the far end of the section from where that lab was located, but they would have to cross the corridor it was in to reach the transporter. "What possessed me to think that coming to an alien planet was a good idea?" she muttered out as Hansen hustled them down the hall.

Grace lurched to a halt as something caught her eye. An unmistakable mess of dark hair poked out a door down the corridor they were passing by. "Hal?" she called out and then stumbled as Rob ran into her.

"Dude!" Rob's face screwed up in confusion. "What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting you upstairs."

Hansen looked back over his shoulder. "Potter's down here?" He glared at Rob as he doubled back toward them. "What the hell is he doing down here unescorted?"

Dr. Kusanagi got there before him, frowning as she glanced around the corner. "Indeed, Dr. McKay was most adamant that you not return." She froze as two more heads appeared.

"Oh, hello," said the young woman had appeared beside Hal. "We're looking for a classmate who went missing. Can you help us?" 

Hansen shoved past, taking a defensive position in front of them as he tapped his earwig. "Command, three hostiles have appeared outside Lab 22B, send reinforcements stat." He kept his weapon aimed down the corridor. 

"Uhm, excuse me?" Hal traded glances with his companions. "We're not hostile, I promise," he said as he stepped fully into the corridor. She did a double take. 

"Hal," she asked slowly, "Why are you talking with an accent and dressed like that Malfoy guy?" 

"He's not dressed like _Malfoy_!" This time it was the other one who answered, tall and gangly, with a shock of bright red hair and an offended look on his face. 

Hansen fixed Grace with a glare. "Doc! Take these kids and haul ass outta here!"

"No!" Grace shook her head, glaring back. "I don't understand! Why are you pointing a gun at Hal?"

His eyebrows drew together in the familiar Harry had when he was puzzled by something. "Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Harry."

Grace blinked and glanced at Rob. His eyebrows went straight up into his hairline and he shook his head in confusion "Yeah, I know that," she said, looking him over carefully. "But Rob and I have been calling you Hal since we watched 2001 in eighth grade." 

He shook his head, never taking his eyes off her. "I've never met either of you before in my life," he said. "But you said I was dressed like Malfoy? You've seen him, then? He's alright?" Hal took a step closer as he spoke and Hansen raised his P90 to take aim. 

"Stay right where you are." The marine's voice was like a whip crack in the corridor. "I will not hesitate to put a bullet in you if you take one more step."

"No!" Grace yelled, lunging forward to get between Hansen and Hal.

"Leung!" Hansen yelled, furious. He made a grab for her, but years of running track made her lithe and quick. "Get back here! No matter what the man looks like, he is _not your friend_! You have no way to know if these people have hostile intent!"

Grace was scared, angry and very confused. "You can't just… just _shoot_ someone because you think they _might_ be dangerous!" 

She turned to face Hal… no, Harry. Now that she was closer, she could see that even though this man looked very much like her friend, there were a number of things that weren't quite right. He was shorter than Hal, and thinner too. Not exactly scrawny, but Hal was solid. And _this_ Harry spoke with an accent – he sounded like Hal's dad. And he was wearing glasses, proof positive he wasn't Hal. Grace felt a cold chill at realizing Hansen was right. 

"You're not, are you?" she asked, suddenly nervous. "Dangerous, I mean?"

"Harry would never hurt you." The redhead spoke up from Harry's side, looking worriedly at Hansen before fixing his gaze on Grace. "None of us would." 

The young woman stepped up beside the two of them. "Thank you for standing up for us." She looked past Grace to where Hansen stood vibrating with tension, P90 aimed and ready to fire. "It makes me very uncomfortable to have a gun pointed at us like that," she spoke to Hansen, voice strained. "Could you _please_ not do that?"

There were voices in the corridor, Grace suddenly realized, a lot of them, and they were getting closer by the second. She turned around to see half a dozen marines arrive, accompanied by Major Lone.

Rob's face was ashen. "Oh god, Gracie, please, _please_ come over here?" he begged, hands outstretched.

"You should go," Harry said, giving her a tense smile. "I know that look. It's the one Ron here gives Hermione when he's worried about her. The one she gives the both of us when we do something very dangerous." His gaze tracked the marines who had positioned themselves beside Hansen to block the corridor and currently all had their weapons trained on him. "And I think the lot of _them_ might have less itchy trigger fingers if you weren't standing so close."

Grace nodded and finally walk back toward Hansen. As soon as she was closer, Rob darted out and threw both arms around her, pulling her behind the line of marines that had appeared. His embrace was so tight, she found it hard to breathe, so she pinched him, hard. He let out a shuddering gasp and loosened his grip, but didn’t let go.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ do that to me again, Gracie! I thought you were going to die, because these soldiers were about ready to lose their shit and shoot first and ask questions later and you can't die on me, Gracie, because how the hell would I ever manage without you, Gracie! Oh my god, Gracie, Gracie, Gracie," he mumbled into the top of her head as he rocked back and forth.

"Sorry," she muttered, squeezing him back. "I just… I had to! He could have shot Hal!"

"That's not Hal!"

"Harry! Whatever! Close enough!" She gave him a final squeeze. "Now let me go before I make you SING."

He let out a weak chuckle and finally released her, finally allowing Kusanagi to usher them away from the excitement and toward the transporter. "You'll always be Miss Congeniality to me."  
  
  
  
As Grace disappeared behind the soldiers who all stood with guns trained on him and his friends, Harry kept his expression calm, but his fingers curled tightly around his wand, ready to cast a Protego and as many hexes as necessary if any of them so much as twitched.

"Mr. Potter." A man who was clearly in command stepped out in in front. He held a hand up in a conciliatory gesture with no weapons in sight, and Harry relaxed slightly but his wand remained firmly in his grip. "I'm Major Lorne."

Harry looked pointedly at the soldiers behind Lorne. "Major, I apologize that our showing up unannounced seems to have caused such – distress. We really didn’t mean to cause any trouble." He focused on keeping his tone even and reasonable. "We're just trying to find our schoolmate, Draco Malfoy, and take him home. Could you please have your men put their guns down?"

Lorne nodded as he glanced over his shoulder. "Stand down," he ordered. There was a muted chorus of 'aye sir's' as the marines lowered their weapons and fell back a few paces. He gave Harry a grim smile. "I understand you’re here on a… goodwill mission, so to speak, but we have good reason to err on the side caution here. Mr. Malfoy is here, and unharmed. I'm going to have to ask you and your associates to come with me." Lorne hesitated a moment, looking slightly awkward as he continued. "I'm also going to have to ask you to surrender your – wands."

"What?" Ron yelped out, looking affronted. "No way, mate!"

"How do you even know –" Hermione broke off and turned her back on the Major. She looked from Harry to Ron with wide-eyed worry. "How do _muggles_ know about wands?" she whispered urgently. "You know _Malfoy_ , of all people, would never willing break the statute, so how do they _know_?"

Ron leaned forward, dropping his voice. "Maybe Malfoy hexed one of them when he came through?"

Harry nodded. "He was pretty narked off when he disappeared," he said, thinking back. "He was talking to someone through the mirror and then started yelling at me for wrecking everything, it was so weird..." Harry blinked. "She kept calling me Hal – that must be me. I mean, the me that's from here in this universe. Malfoy must have thought it was me. He wouldn't have realized this Hal bloke is not me…" Harry trailed off as he thought about it. "Well, if I'm here working with muggles and they know to ask for our wands, then maybe in this universe, muggles know about magic." He looked at Hermione and Ron for confirmation. "Or at least the ones I work with? I mean, that he works with? Does that make sense?"

Hermione spoke slowly. "Well, it's possible I suppose." She frowned as she looked up at him. "But it doesn't seem likely that the ministry would ever allow it."

Ron looked dubious. "I dunno, mate," he said shaking his head. "This alternate universe stuff is right barmy if you ask me." 

"Mr. Potter." The request came again, and Harry looked past Hermione to where Lorne stood holding his hand out, implacable and resolute. "Your wands. Please." 

Harry took a deep breath, then nodded and pulled out his wand. He froze when several of the soldiers' weapons snapped back up, trained on him. Slowly, Harry turned his hand, uncurling his fingers to extend his wand, balanced across his palm.

Cautiously, Lorne approached, stopping in front of Harry. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Harry nodded, extending his arm. Lorne reached out and picked it up, then smoothly slid it into the side pocket of his pants. His eyes flicked to Ron then Hermione before returning to Harry's. 

Harry sighed. "C'mon, Ron," he cajoled, nudging him with his elbow. 

Ron thrust his wand, handle first, at Lorne while giving Harry a reproachful look. "This is a bad idea, mate."

"Uhm… Ron!" Harry spoke urgently, motioning at Lorne and Ron looked up to see Lorne staring at him, eyes wide with alarm. 

"Merlin's sake!" Ron waggled the wand it at Lorne, exasperation on his features. "It's handle first, can't you tell?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, offering her wand up in the same way Harry had. "Don't be rude! Muggles don't see wands every day." She smiled soothingly at Lorne. "Honestly, he's not trying to be a prat. It's just not something most wizards ever do, you see. Just handing their wand to someone they don't know, especially a muggle. It's… rather disconcerting."

Lorne blinked. "Okay." He looked over at Ron and blinked again. "Right. Thanks." He took both of their wands and slipped them into the pocket alongside Harry's, then took a step back. "If you would please follow me, the Colonel would like to see you."


	19. Criticality

*~*sga*~*sga*~*sga*~*

McKay chose that moment to cut in. "So how, exactly, is Potter planning to get out here?" he asked, arms crossed, giving Beckett a sceptical look. "With a wave of his magic wand? No wait, you're going to summon him using your crystal ball, right?" He didn't wait for an answer before turning to Sheppard. "This is impossible. The SGC doesn't have enough power to establish an outgoing wormhole to Pegasus."

Weir cleared her throat, giving McKay a quelling look. "Fifteen minutes are up," she said. As McKay reached down to press the first key of the dialing sequence, Beckett laid a hand on his arm, halting the motion.

"We won't need to dial in again." He looked at the quiescent gate. "Trust me."

McKay let out a snort of disbelief. "Beckett, unless Potter can Hocus Pocus a ZPM into existence, there is no way on Earth—"

The incoming alarm went sounded and the whooshing sound of gate activation filled the room. Moments later, they were bathed in the watery blue glow of a stable wormhole. Weir's eyebrows rose in surprise while McKay gaped like a fish. 

"Attention, Atlantis." Sgt. Harriman's spoke over the radio, and the formerly calm voice now conveyed confusion, disbelief and a good bit of urgency. "Mr. Potter just activated and stepped through the gate! Please lower your force shield immediately!"

McKay's eyes widened. "Oh, shit!" He scrambled to hit the correct sequence to lower the shield, but once again, Beckett grabbed his arm and halted him. 

"Leave it up," Beckett said, face deadly serious. 

McKay stared at him. "Carson! He's going to hit the shield and end up as flash of light and a bunch of free floating atoms!" He struggled to wrench free, but Beckett held fast. "What are you _doing_? Let me go!" 

Sheppard went to enter the sequence but Beckett blocked him from doing so even as he continued to hold McKay back from the console. "You mustn't lower the shield. He'll be fine, trust me."

"Dammit, Carson -" McKay started, but was interrupted a split-second later by a loud pop. He trailed off as a tall, dark-haired man with glasses appeared in front of the still-glowing energy shield.

" _What_ in the _hell_?" Sheppard breathed, wide-eyed as his hand reflexively curled around the grip of his sidearm.

"Atlantis!" It was Harriman again, voice flustered and a bit desperate. "Has Mr. Potter arrived safely? Please confirm!"

"We have him, Sergeant, safe and sound," Weir replied, eyes fixed on the man who was now rapidly making his way up the steps toward the command center.

"How?" McKay demanded, rounding on Beckett. "Don't you _dare_ say magic, Carson!"

Sheppard saw the startled look Potter shot at Beckett. Carson let out a resigned sigh. "The kneazle is well and truly out of the bag, James." Potter hesitated, then gave him a sharp nod.

Weir stepped forward to greet Potter and Sheppard moved in lockstep beside her, every sense on high alert. While the physical resemblance between the man and his son was striking, Sheppard could read the signs in the way he carried himself and took in his surroundings. Potter was clearly law enforcement or military, whatever the equivalent was for a wizard.

"Mr. Potter." She greeted him as she did all foreign delegations, relaxed but wary, and offered her hand. "I'm Dr. Elizabeth Weir. Welcome to Atlantis."

Potter took her hand with a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor." It was just like any of dozens of other handshakes Sheppard had watched witnessed her share with various dignitaries, but the intensity of Potter's gaze on her grated on Sheppard as the moment stretched out too long. Sheppard had just hit the level of twitchiness that made him reach for his sidearm when Beckett spoke up from beside him.

"James." There was an odd note of warning in Beckett's tone and Sheppard felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, gripped by the unshakeable conviction that something wasn't right. Before he could do anything, like step forward and shove Potter away, the man blinked and released Weir's hand, a troubled look clouding his face. She shivered, eyes narrowing as she stared at Potter.

"Elizabeth?" Sheppard murmured in question, taking a half step closer as he kept his eyes fixed on their visitor. After a moment, she gave him a slight headshake then took a deep breath. She let it out evenly and then motioned to McKay and Sheppard. 

"This is Dr. McKay, our chief science officer and Colonel Sheppard, the military commander of our expedition." 

Potter offered his hand to McKay but Rodney just crossed his arms. "Wizard," he snorted, rolling his eyes. "Right." He pointedly looked away.

"You'll have to excuse Rodney," Sheppard interjected before Weir could snap at McKay for his rudeness. "He doesn't play well with others." McKay just sneered at Sheppard before turning his attention back to the control console, ignoring Potter entirely. 

Potter gave a small smile. "I understand that, as a man of science, the entire concept of magic may be rather difficult for him to accept." He offered his hand and Sheppard took it. As their eyes locked, Sheppard had the sudden, eerie sensation of being laid completely bare and frozen in place, like a bug on a pin, as though Potter could see right into his very soul.

"James, enough!" This time, Beckett barked, sounding distinctly annoyed. 

When Potter blinked, the feeling faded away, and Sheppard felt his hackles rise. He yanked his hand back dropping it to rest at his side, his fingers curling around the grip of his firearm. He could tell that the significance of the action didn't go unnoticed by Potter. "You'll want to explain what you just did," Sheppard began in a voice deceptively mild but with a look on his face that was decidedly not. "Because after living through Wraith queen power plays and Auran mind fucks, I tend to get a mite tetchy when strangers poke around in my brain without my express permission."

McKay's head snapped up. "What? What did he _do_?" 

Weir's mouth was pulled into a tight line. "Mr. Potter, Carson feels we have a situation you need to be apprised of, but it's difficult to imagine working with you when your first act is to violate not only our trust, but our very minds." 

"That was not my intent." Potter flushed at her comment, but he was unrepentant. "I can assure you, I was looking only at surface memories in an attempt to ascertain as quickly as possible what has happened to put my son at risk. We sent him here to protect him. And now–" he broke off and looked at Beckett, astonishment and confusion warring on his face. "Lucius Malfoy's son? Here, on Atlantis? How in Godrick's name is that even possible?"

"We had planned to discuss that with you," Weir replied. 

"Using _words_ ," Sheppard added, giving Potter a meaningful look.

"I understand." Potter nodded at Sheppard. "I apologize. I had no right to do that without your consent. I may be guilty of overreacting somewhat where my son's safety concerned." He looked back at Weir. "Thank you for allowing me to come." 

"It doesn't appear that you needed our permission." Weir's voice was as dry as her comment was pointed. "For future reference, it is considered polite to knock and wait for and invitation rather than just barging in."

Sheppard lifted a finger. "Also, I'd be very interested in how you got past the shield that usually turns unannounced visitors into free floating atoms. Clearly we need a shield upgrade."

"Yes, of course," Potter said, shaking his head ruefully. "I've really made a right mess of things in just a few minutes, haven't I?" He let out a heavy sigh. "Again, I do sincerely apologize for my behaviour and my… intrusion. And I promise to answer your questions as I am able, but right now, time truly is of the essence."

Beckett's face went very serious. "What's happened?"

"Things on earth have progressed rather more quickly than expected." Potter replied, his expression grim. "I was planning to send you a message tomorrow during your scheduled dial in. Just over a week ago, several high ranking Death Eaters were been spotted in several major cities across the United States—" 

"Wait, hold on," McKay interrupted, shoving his way in beside Sheppard. Death Eaters? The bad ones that Malfoy kid said he used to be part of? Who like to torture and kill people?"

Potter paused a moment, then glanced at Beckett. "It is very disconcerting to discuss such matters with muggles," he said before replying to McKay. "That's correct. Aurors have been responding to a tenfold increase in attacks targeting muggles, muggle-born Wizards and those known to support them. The attacks spiked within days of sending Harry away. It started in the UK, but in the last week, Macusa has reported a similar uptick in attacks here. There has been an increase in attacks on a global scale, with reports of such violence coming in from all over the world, but it appears to be concentrated in the United States and Britain. So far, the muggle authorities believe the attacks to be hate crimes and terrorist attacks, but the DMLE of both countries are stretched to the breaking point handling wizarding attacks and managing muggles exposure as well."

Before Potter could continue, Beckett's head snapped up and he tapped his earwig. "Beckett here. What's the emergency?" His eyes went wide and he looked at Potter. "James. We need to get to the infirmary immediately. Something's happened to Harry." He extended his arm and potter took it. A moment later, a loud crack split the air, accompanied by a flash of light, and the two men vanished.

Weir's jaw dropped and Sheppard stared, speechless at the spot Beckett and Potter had occupied only moments before. He was torn, in equal parts, between righteous anger at Beckett holding out on them and utter, blatant _jealousy_. He could teleport? It was McKay who summed up how they all felt.

"That bone-shaking, sheep-loving excuse of a witch-doctor has some explaining to do!"  
  
  
  
"Lucius!" 

The sibilant hiss of Voldemort's voice as he entered the study brought Lucius Malfoy to attention. He shot to his feet, before bowing his head in deference to his master. "Yes, my Lord?"

"It is time!" Voldemort's eyes blazed with victory. "I have found him at last!" 

Bellatrix trailed along after him, flitting back and forth as though dancing to a tune only she could hear. "Foolish they were, my Lord, to think they could ever outwit you." She smiled up at Voldemort, adoration in her face, and the Dark Lord favoured her with a nod.

"Foolish, indeed," he agreed. "They were cunning; they have hidden him unimaginably far away, but at last, they have made a grave error and revealed him to me." Voldemort turned his attention back to Lucius. "There are ancient and powerful magics protecting the boy, ones that our forces will be unable to tear down."

Lucius shifted uneasily. Voldemort did not usually accept being thwarted with any kind of equanimity. "I am sure that their defences cannot possibly hold against your power, my Lord," he offered up cautiously.

Voldemort's eerie laughter filled the room. "Their defences are of no consequence." He pulled out his wand and touched it to his arm. "Tell those already gathered to prepare for a siege. Once my remaining Death Eaters have arrived, we shall attack."

"Of course, My Lord," Lucius bowed once again. He hesitated briefly. "May I ask, where is it that they tried to hide him, my Lord?" 

"A place lost in legend long ago. The City of Atlantis."  
  
  
  
They were halfway up the staircase when Harry screamed and collapsed, hands cradling his head as if in agony. The marines flanking him on either side caught him before he could take a tumble and double timed it up the stairs, supporting him between them. When they reached the top, they eased him to the floor where he curled up in fetal position, moaning.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, running after them to drop to her knees beside him. Ron was there a split second later. 

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron looked him over for anything obvious. 

Lorne tapped his earwig. "Dr. Beckett, we have a medical emergency."

"Voldemort," Harry hissed out between clenched teeth.

"What?" Ron traded a worried look with Hermione. "That… that's impossible, mate! He's dead! You killed him!"

"Not… here…" Harry ground out. He let out another agonized moan, then went limp.

Hermione grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "Harry! HARRY!"

Lorne gently pulled her away. "You need to let go so we can help him." He looked at the two Marines closest to Potter. "Jones, Sanchez. Get him to the infirmary, double time."  
  
  
  
Hal stood by the window in Draco's quarters, arms crossed. "I wonder what's taking them so long," he said, face twisting into a frown. "I expected them to be here by-"

Hal gasped, clutching at his head and sank to his knees with a groan. Draco leaped up from his chair to drop to the floor beside Hal, catching him as he toppled over.

"What's wrong?" he asked desperately as Hal twisted in his arms with an agonized cry. "What's happening?"

"My head…" Hal moaned, curling up into Draco's chest one hand on the side of his head, the other clutching at Draco's robes. "I… my Imitrix… oh, fuck, so bad…" Tears were leaking out the corner of his eyes as he rocked against Draco, agony etched in every line of his face. "Never been… this bad… oh god, hurts so much!" 

Draco lightly grazed Hal's forehead with his fingertips, afraid of causing more pain. The spot he was used to seeing Harry's scar occupy was uncomfortably hot to the touch. Draco didn't know what to do, but Hal needed help – the guard! Remembering what Hal had said, Draco focused as hard as he could on the door and thought, "open". A moment later, it swished aside and the marine standing guard looked in.

"Harry's collapsed! I mean Hal! I don't know what happened! We have to get him to the Healer!"  
  
  
  
Beckett strode into the infirmary, James right behind him. James looked around and came to an abrupt halt. "Carson, you said-"

Beckett laid a hand on James's shoulder and cut him off, smiling at the nurse on duty. "Irene, lass, young Mr. Potter's on his way. Likely a bad migraine – would you fetch his meds for me?"

"Right away, Doctor," the nurse replied, going to the cabinet in the back to it. 

"They radioed in." Beckett spoke quietly to James, keeping his eye on the nurse all the while. "Only the command staff knows the truth. I canna be apparating all over the city or I'd have to constantly oblivate half the expedition. Not to mention, as you well know, there's cameras everywhere." He sighed. "This is one of those times the bloody statute causes more harm than good."

They heard the echo of voices down the hall a few seconds before the room was flooded with people. 

"New visitor collapsed with no warning, Doc." Lorne gave a quick report as two marines carried the partially conscious and moaning man into the room. "Pupils dilated, extreme photosensitivity, possibly hallucinating." He quirked an eyebrow. "Goes by Harry Potter, and also a dead ringer for Hal." 

Beckett did a double take. When the terse call had come in about Potter being down with severe head pain, he'd been expecting Hal, not his alternate universe doppelganger. 

"Merlin-" James choked back an oath, and Beckett silently thanked Godrick that the man reined it in. He needed to focus on his patient.

"Get him up here," Beckett ordered, pulling on his gloves as the marines hoisted the young man up on the Ancient scanner. Lorne was right, there was no question this was Potter, except it was absolutely not the one from this universe. Besides the oddity of being clad in Hogwarts robes, this Potter was definitely smaller than Hal. He was shorter too, and not nearly as broad in the shoulders. There was no doubt about his face or that hair; Potter genes through and through. As he palpated the boy's forehead, he discovered another glaring difference – a jagged scar featured prominently on his brow. He let out a pained sound as Beckett touched the mark.

James leaned in close, his fingers white from gripping the edge of the bed so tightly. "Carson!" His voice was a harsh whisper. Beckett watched James reach out a hand, only to stop and pull back, clearly conflicted as he took in the myriad of tiny differences that made this young man stand out from his son. "He looks so much like him…"

Harry's eyes opened, hazed with pain and unfocused. "He's back!" he choked out, and immediately tried to scramble off the bed. "Gotta warn them!"

As James and Beckett pushed him back down, the nurse appeared beside the bed. "Doctor?" Irene held out a prepared syringe. 

Beckett hesitated briefly as he studied his struggling patient. The Harry Potter in front of him was exhibiting all the same symptoms Hal suffered when Voldemort activated their mental link. Given the scar, Beckett was willing to bet this Harry was subject to the same and that the potion would protect him and nullify the deleterious effects of the mental invasion is it did for Hal. He gave a curt nod, pushing the robe off Harry's arm and rolling up his sleeve. After quickly swabbing the spot, he plunged the syringe home. 

"What are you giving him?" A strident voice caught his attention and Beckett glanced up. "Stop it! No, I'm not going anywhere until I know what you're doing to Harry! _Let me go_!"

"Gerroff me! That's my best mate over there! We're not going – hey! Don't you touch Hermione! Get your hands off her!" 

Beckett realized Lorne had ordered the Marines to remove Potter's companions from the infirmary, but their resulting reactions made it clear that wasn't going to happen without a fight. 

"Major, it’s fine," Beckett broke in. "They can remain here for the time being." 

Lorne nodded to his men who released them immediately. Beckett turned to the pair of them. "Miss…?" 

"Hermione Granger," she answered, then nodded at the young man with her. "Ronald Weasley. And I want to know what that was you just injected Harry with!"

Beckett's mouth curled in a tiny smile – Gryffindors, so fierce. And he'd just _known_ that ginger had to be one of Arthur's brood. "It was something to ease his pain, Miss Granger. I assure you that we mean your friend no harm. Quite the opposite in fact." Beckett was relieved to see Harry's body relax as the potion took effect and the pain faded away. "You and Mr. Weasley can both have a seat over there." He tilted his head to indicate the chairs by his desk. Before he could turn back to Harry, a new voice came from the infirmary entrance.

"Doctor! Something's wrong with Potter!"

The marine who'd been sent to escort Malfoy to his room was now standing in the infirmary entrance with him, the two of them supporting Hal Potter between them. Hal was groaning in pain and semi-conscious.

"Bloody _hell_!" Beckett swore, shifting his gaze back and forth between the two young Potters. The room suddenly exploded into a cacophony of voices.

Weasley jumped up from his seat. "Merlin!" He was gaping. "That looks just like Harry!"

James glared at Beckett. "Carson, what in _Godrick's_ name is going on?" He strode across the infirmary. "Let go of my son!" he ordered Malfoy, bodily shoving him out of the way as he took his place, slipping his arm around Hal in Draco's place. 

Granger gasped. "Your _son_?"

"You're Hal's father?" Malfoy stared, wide eyed, gaze flicking back and forth between Hal and Harry on the bed.

Weasley took a step toward Malfoy, only to be stopped by Hermione's hand on his arm. "What did you do to him, ferret?"

Malfoy's face twisted up into a sneer. "I didn't do anything, Weaselbee! What are you even doing here?"

Out the corner of his eye, Beckett saw James reaching for his wand. "SHUT IT, ALL OF YOU!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, and the room went silent. "You, keep it sheathed," he ordered James. "I mean it!" He favoured Weasley and Malfoy each with a glare. "You two stop your arguing or I'll have the marines throw you in the brig! As a matter of fact, Mr. Malfoy, go have a seat beside Mr. Weasley over there, and both of you - keep it civil." Beckett pointed at the bed tucked against the infirmary wall. "Corporal, bring that gurney over here, and James, get Hal on it. Irene, get me another dose, stat!" 

He returned his attention to Harry. "Lorne, tell me what happened."

"We were escorting the visitors to the briefing room when Mr. Potter collapsed."

"He said it was Voldemort!" Weasley blurted out, and both Beckett and James whipped around to stare at him. "But it doesn't make sense," he continued, shaking his head. "Voldemort's dead."

"Not here, Weasley," Malfoy replied, his tone weary. "Apparently, in this universe, the Dark Lord is still alive and causing mayhem and destruction."

Granger's head snapped up, eyes wide. "So we were right? This _is_ an alternate universe? And the artefact that transported us here, is it muggle or wizarding? Or is it some concatenation of science and magic? It's utterly fascinating-" 

"Later!" Beckett spoke sharply and gave her a quelling look and initiated the scanner. Irene appeared beside him as the device began its cycle, fresh syringe in hand.

"Thank you, lass," he murmured, nudging James out of the way so the nurse could take Hal's vitals. "Lorne, how long ago did this happen?" he asked as he repeated the process of swabbing Hal's arm and injecting the potion. 

Lorne glanced at his watch then back up at Beckett. "I'm not sure of the exact time, doc, but I'd estimate between eight and eleven minutes ago."

Beckett kept his eyes on Hal till he saw him relax. As with Harry earlier, it only took a few moments before pain lines in Hal's forehead smoothed away and he went completely limp. He looked up. "Corporal?"

"I didn't get the time either, sir," the marine answered. "But the same estimate as Major Lone."

"Slick trick there, Carson." 

Beckett sighed at the obvious anger in Sheppard's voice, and glanced over his shoulder to find the Colonel and Weir entering the infirmary. They were followed immediately by a furious McKay, who came striding right toward him. "I want some _answers_!"

"Well, you're bloody well going to have to _wait!_ " Beckett snapped as McKay reached him, in no mood for any further badgering. "How long has it been since the gate activated and James came through?" McKay started to splutter with and affronted look, but Beckett ignored it. "Now, Rodney."

McKay blinked once, then looked at his watch. "Almost eleven minutes ago. How exact of a number do you need? I can pull the gate records-"

"No, that's sufficient, thank you." Beckett looked all around his suddenly very full infirmary. "I need all non-essential personnel out of here immediately." He looked over at the nurse. "Irene, you can go lass. I'll take it from here."

Lorne glanced at Sheppard who gave him a nod. "Back to your posts," Lorne ordered, and the marines quickly dispersed. Lorne was about to walk out when Ron protested.

"Oi! He's got our wands!"

Lorne hesitated for a moment before pulling the three wands out of his pocket.

"Should I even ask, sir?" he said, looking doubtfully at Sheppard. 

The Colonel just sighed and put out his hand. "No, Major, you should not. Just pass them over." Lorne dutifully did so and Sheppard tucked them into the leg pocket beside Malfoy's wand. "And Lorne, when you write up your report? It would be entirely appropriate to categorize the items you relieved from our visitors as unknown alien tech." 

"Yes, sir," Lorne agreed with a nod. "I'll be sure to do that."

"Dismissed."

A second later, Lorne was gone, and Beckett had never been so grateful for the military mindset. He really hadn't wanted to obliviate the man.

"Alright, Carson, out with it!" McKay demanded. "Why is the timing important?"

James answered before Beckett, his gaze fixed on his son's face. "Because Voldemort was able to gain a foothold in my son's mind when I came through the stargate."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Artwork for Shaddyr - Draco on Atlantis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17851949) by [danceswithgary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary)




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